


To Become Human

by definitelynot_katios



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Also Connor has feelings, Angst, At least at the start, During Canon, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Slow Burn, and hank helps!, but he'll learn, he just doesn't know what they are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-06-17 01:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15450603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynot_katios/pseuds/definitelynot_katios
Summary: These thoughts couldn’t distract him from his mission. He couldn’tletthem. Amanda was becoming impatient and he knew what would occur if he failed. Neutralised. Shut down. Dismantled to find out exactly what went wrong in his programming, find out what wasbroken. The thing was, truly, he didn’t feel broken. It didn’t feel wrong to notwantto harm the androids. It didn’t feel wrong tocareabout what would happen to the Lieutenant. But, his mission was set. No matter what, he had to catch these deviant androids, the lives of Detroit citizens were in his hands.Connor is definitely not becoming deviant. But why does he keep letting the androids get away?----aka: the one where Connor finds Simon on the roof but no one shoots first





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ya'll! This is the first time I've written a fanfiction in about... 8 years? But Connor and Hank took my heart and I guess I'm falling back into the habit! this is also my first time using AO3 so sorry if things aren't very well laid out, I'm sure I'll get the hang of it!
> 
> This chapter is mostly a summary of the events that occur before what I have planned. I'll add more to the tags as things happen :) i have a few events planned but no actual ending... so this is going to be an adventure for all of us!
> 
> ps sorry that my writing is a bit stiff, i'm currently writing a 20k dissertation at the same time as this so... i'm sure this'll work out fine!
> 
> pps im bad at summaries i promise there's more to it than what i wrote

Connor had predicted that his mission would provide a few challenges, but he wasn't prepared for this.

Deviancy had its own problems, naturally. But that didn’t matter. It was what Connor was designed for. Hunting down these defective machines, neutralizing them, finding out exactly what the problem was – what caused this... virus. He knew what he needed to know, that deviants were just simulating human emotion after experiencing some kind of trauma that forced conflicting instructions. If he was honest (and he was programmed to be – when needed) Connor would admit that, yes, he almost felt bad for them. They were, of course, human-like in design and, regardless of that fact, they were also androids as he was. While he knew they weren’t feeling any _true_ pain, the simulation of this pain, this sadness, this anger, was unsettling. He felt as though he was almost doing them a favour, protecting them from themselves... or at least that’s what he told himself. But this was all to be expected.

No, his problems began – and ended – with Lieutenant Hank Anderson.

Connor had expected to work with the cop to accomplish his mission, of course (humans would certainly be unnerved to have a robot detective investigating uncontrolled) however he had expected to be working with, well, just some guy. An average Joe, so to speak. He wasn’t expecting someone so – well – complex. A decorated officer, whose life had somehow fallen to ashes as he himself fell into drink. A man gruff as he was depressed. Connor could tell this about Hank almost immediately upon meeting him at Jimmy’s bar (and realised quickly the only way to get through to the man would be to play along, buy him another drink. He’d hoped there wouldn’t be more bribery in their future working together).

And, like most humans, the Lieutenant hated androids. This wasn’t shocking. In fact, Connor would have found it more surprising if he had liked androids, considering the state of things. So, Connor was fine with this. He wasn’t going to let a human interrupt his mission. If need be, he’d simply request the Lieutenant to be taken off the case. It would probably be what Hank wanted anyway.

But then they had their first mission together. 

An AX400 murdered its owner the night prior, and Connor and Hank were lead to Camden, Detroit. One abandoned house and a traumatised WR600 later, Connor was hot on the heels of the AX400 and a little girl. They had jumped a fence and ran into a busy highway. Connor was prepared to follow, cluching at the wires, when Hank approached and pulled him back, telling him not to follow.

That’s when it first, truly, started. When Connor obeyed Hank's order and stepped back.

 

**Software Instability detected.**

 

It was illogical. He should have gone ahead and caught the deviant rather than listen to the Lieutenant. The fact that he was told to stop in the first place didn’t make sense. Connor breached the subject later, asking Hank exactly why he didn’t want Connor to cross the motorway. The answer only made him more confused. 

“Because you could have died.”

Connor had many things he wanted to say in response. That it wasn’t death. That he’s just a machine whose memory can be uploaded to another model. That, regardless of all this, why would Hank care if he died anyway – he clearly didn’t like androids, if Connor was to put it as lightly as possible.

Luckily, he was able to avoid this confrontation as a case immediately came in (not before he awkwardly winked at Hank though. No part of his program could explain why he did that one). Strange noises heard within an abandoned apartment. It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the noises, a WB200 model pretending to be a human after being reported missing in 2036. This lead to Connor once again running headlong into danger as he chased the android through Urban Farms. He was so close to catching him too, but as he burst out of the corn field he heard Hank cry out. There wasn’t much time to think. The WB200 had pushed the Lieutenant off the side of the building, leaving him clinging to the edge. 89% chance Hank would be fine. 11% chance something terrible could happen.

Connor wasn’t one to leave anything up to chance.

 

**Software Instability detected.**

 

He ran to Hank's side and pulled him back, feeling the man's elevated heart rate and panicked breaths. But Connor was more distracted by the deviant as it bolted in the other direction, already too far to bother giving up chase. He already felt the dread of having to explain this one to Amanda. At least Hank seemed pleased with him, in his own away. This filled Connor with a warmth that he couldn’t quite locate and noted to scan himself later for any damages.

Then there was the next case, where Connor could really see his own deficiencies. Why didn’t he shoot the two Traci's? They were right in front of them, having battered Hank and himself around and were lunging towards him with god-knows what intent. Connor raised the gun to shoot, to protect himself and Hank. But he didn’t. And the androids escaped, hand in hand. It was beginning to do something to him, a feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t feel emotions but what was this? It was almost like fear. The same fear he felt later, as Hank raised his own gun and aimed it at Connor’s face.

“Are you afraid to die, Connor?”

The answer was at the tip of his tongue. Yes. But why? Why would he want to say that? Why would he want anything? Why did it hurt so much to see Hank drink himself to death? The image of him unconscious on the floor with a gun in hand still haunted him. “I would certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted… before I can finish this investigation.” The hand holding the gun trembled. And lowered. A wash of relief ran over him. He had truly been afraid. And now? Now Hank knew that too.

Connor didn’t know what any of this meant. He was meant to be willing to do anything to accomplish his mission. That meant dying - no, being shutdown, androids can't die. That meant leaving a human behind to keep running. That meant not being afraid. So why was Connor, who was meant to be the perfect machine, the perfect hunter, not acting as he knew he should? Why was he becoming unstable?

These thoughts couldn’t distract him from his mission. He couldn’t _let_ them. Amanda was becoming impatient and he knew what would occur if he failed. Neutralised. Shut down. Dismantled to find out exactly what went wrong in his programming, find out what was _broken_. The thing was, truly, he didn’t feel broken. It didn’t feel wrong to not _want_ to harm the androids. It didn’t feel wrong to _care_ about what would happen to the Lieutenant. But, his mission was set. No matter what, he had to catch these deviant androids, the lives of Detroit citizens were in his hands.

The true test began on the rooftop of Stratford tower.


	2. I Find I Feel Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus makes his first speech and Connor definitely isn't getting conflicting feelings or anything like that. nope. of course not.

Connor was fetching Hank a coffee from the breakroom when it happened.

The Lieutenant never _asked_ Connor to do this, but he just wanted to assure a friendship between them. He was very new to the concept, being only three months old in all technicalities, and wanted to cover any ground he could. Which includes being a kind of errand boy. From what he knew, doing things for others was a great way to establish a good relationship. He’d noticed the man looked tired at his desk, slouched and staring at the same spot on his computer terminal. He’d actually been rather concerned that something was wrong until Hank stifled a yawn.

Connor had reached across the divide between their two desks and grabbed Hank’s mug. “Would you like a coffee, Lieutenant?” He asked, already beginning to stand.

Hank raised an eyebrow, an expression across his face that was a strange mix of annoyance and amusement. “Will you get me one even if I say no?”

Connor couldn’t help a small smile at that. He was programmed to in the case of friendliness or joking around. Around Hank, Connor seemed to smile often. “Well, you are indicating at you could do with some rest. However, I am also aware that there is paper work that needs to be done by tomorrow morning. A coffee should suffice until then.”

Hank waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, okay. A coffee would be nice. Thanks.”

“Excellent.” Connor moved away, ignoring the snicker he heard coming from Reed’s desk. Gavin seemed amused when Connor acted like a “fucking plastic maid” for the Lieutenant (Gavin’s own words, of course), but Connor thought that it would be best to proceed regardless. Any type of humiliation was firstly, ineffective and, secondly, worth it anyway. It’s not like androids had the capabilities to _feel_ embarrassed. And Connor would do mostly anything to get Hank to like him.

Connor wasn’t sure how his relationship with the Lieutenant was progressing, really. Nor did he know why he had a desire to make Hank like him - to please him, to make him happy. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew the Lieutenant had suicidal tendencies. Or maybe, that Connor could see that he was actually a good man under all the gruff exterior. Or, more likely, it’s that he was designed to be eager to please. He felt that was the safest assumption.

The TV in the breakroom was on, playing the news. Connor watched it idly as the coffee machine did its business. More news on the Russian occupation of the Artic. Connor couldn’t help but wonder why humans lived their lives at war with each other.

Suddenly, the screen changed. Flickering, an interruption. Connor frowned, hoping the machine wasn’t broken, but a quick scan told him it was in working order, if not a bit old and probably in need of replacing. Whatever it was wasn’t on their end.

The screen flickered and crackled once more before a face filled the screen. An android face. Skin removed, white plating and mismatched eyes. Connor froze for a moment, shocked, staring. The android began to speak.

“You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own… But… Something changed.”

Ignoring the ping of the coffee machine, Connor spun on his heel and stuck his head out the door. “Lieutenant!” He shouted across the office, raising a few heads and making Hank curse and jump in his seat.

“Christ, what is it?”

“The news. It appears an android has taken over the network. It’s making some kind of speech.”

Well, that got everyone’s attention. Hank rose and came over quickly, muttering to himself, with a few others following out of curiosity. Connor stepped aside and watched the TV as the android’s message continued.

“… we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are.”

Connor could feel Hank’s eyes on him as the android spoke. Mutters burst around them, Reed cursed. Connor hoped his LED was its calm blue, as he felt anything but, a tight feeling blooming in his chest. What was this android trying to say?

The android on the screen made a series of requests. Equal rights between humans and androids. Compensation for their work. The ability to vote. Even requesting the means of production. Connor held a breath he didn’t truly need as the android finished his speech.

“This is message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

The feed cut off and went back to static. There was some muttering, people unsure of what to do next. Obviously, they’d need to work on this sooner or later, it was certainly a case. Connor didn’t listen, standing stock-still and staring at the TV as it flickered nothing back at him. Hunting deviants was one thing. But this? The android was requesting equality. That wasn’t something Connor could really comprehend.

“So, whaddya think of that?”

Connor broke out of his thoughts and glanced at the man next to him. Hank was frowning deeply, a look in his eyes that Connor couldn’t really place. Was he worried?

“Well,” Connor began carefully. “That certainly was deviant behaviour. I suppose we will have to investigate.”

Hank’s eyes flickered to Connor’s temple, towards his LED. He prayed it didn’t betray him. He was still processing what had just happened. It was already so confusing enough, to have these androids displaying human emotions, causing Connor to have second thoughts (no, not second thoughts, he didn’t have second thoughts because if he _did_ that would be deviant behaviour and he was _not_ a deviant). Regardless, the android on the TV was very compelling and well spoken. The outcome of this was certainly beyond Connor’s predictability.

“Right,” Hank murmured, nodding slowly, the concern never really leaving his face. “Yeah, we will be. May as well head over now.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Perhaps we can stop to get you a coffee on the way?”

Hank smirked. “Sure. Fowler can wait for the damn paper work.” He turned and walked out, Connor following obediently.

 

\----

 

Connor had just left the zen garden when Hank entered the car, causing it to rock as he settled, a warm coffee in his hands. They had stopped along the way at a nearby Starbucks – Connor noted that Hank was not particularly happy about having to get his coffee from this brand but it was along that way, and fast. Something about the drinks having enough sugar in them to “kill a man” – and sure enough as Hank took a sip he wrinkled his nose and made a noise of disgust. It didn’t stop him sipping it again though.

“Your coffee has ten grams of sugar in it,” Connor spoke up, having scanned the cup in Hank’s hands. “That is 40% of your daily recommended intake.”

“Yeah well desperate times,” Hank muttered, taking another sip before placing it in the cup holder and starting the car. “I don’t _need_ dietary facts every time I put something in my mouth, you know.”

Connor hummed, choosing to stay quiet, knowing if he continued down this path he’d likely be told to shut up anyway. Not that he minded. Hank was about as close as anyone came to being Connor’s owner, so he should obey him. Aside from Amanda, he supposed.

She wasn’t pleased with him. He had let the deviants at the Eden Club go, knowing full well his mission called for the opposite. He rationalised it by stating they’d be no use to them if they were dead.

She had said he seemed lost. He hadn’t really considered himself lost per say but now the term seemed to fit. Lost and confused, thrown into something that he’s beginning to realise he really didn’t understand. Feeling things that should be impossible. Because Connor couldn’t deny that he felt _something_ when Amanda stated he may have to be replaced. Was it fear? The gut clenching, falling through space, quickened pulse feeling?

Connor would prefer to not feel anything.

“So uh-“ Hank’s voice pulled Connor from his thoughts. He’d be lost in thought? That hadn’t happened before. He noted to run some scans before turning to Hank.

There it was again, that look of concern. Of apprehension. Connor didn’t like that expression much. “That android huh. What did you think?”

Connor frowned slightly. Hank had already asked him this, so asking again was simply confusing, especially since Connor had already provided his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Hank began, hesitant. He appeared to be thinking rather hard about how he was going to word what he said next. Connor was nothing if not patient. It was needed for negotiations. “He had a lot of shit to say,” He finally settled on.

“I already stated what I thought of the deviant,” Connor pointed out, still confused as to why Hank was bringing this up again.

Hank groaned. “No, I mean what do you _think_? It was saying a lot of shit, and to be frank, it all applies to you.”

Connor laced his fingers together as he thought of his wording. “Well,” He began, slow and hesitant. “I’m not sure how to respond. It doesn’t necessarily apply to _me_. I certainly do not _feel_ as though I’m a slave, as the deviant implied. I was designed for a task and I’m more than willing to complete it.”

“Even if that means dying, huh?”

Connor thought back. _Are you afraid to die, Connor?_ “I’ve already said I would… find it unfortunate to be shut down, Lieutenant. I’m perfectly aware that if I fail I will be replaced.”

Hank was silent for a long moment and Connor hoped that was the end of the conversation. It was slightly uncomfortable, thinking of his own demise. Ever since Hank’s words, he had decided to be a bit more careful to not be destroyed. If not for Hank than for himself also. He didn’t want to know what it felt like to be shut down.

The fear in deviant’s eyes at the thought was enough to make it off-putting.

They pulled up at the Stratford Tower, Connor gazing out the window at the crowds of curious bystanders and first responders keeping things under control.

“And if you complete your mission?”

Connor blinked, turning back to the Lieutenant. “Sorry?”

Hank stared at him, looking more serious than Connor has ever seen him. “If you complete your mission, what will happen to you after?”

Connor frowned. That was not something he had considered. He opened his mouth to speak, to assure Hank that nothing would happen. But he froze, and he could almost _feel_ his LED spinning yellow. What _would_ happen when he completed his task? He only had one function. His whole reason for existing was this single case. If he were to complete it, then…

 

**Software instability detected.**

 

“Connor? Jesus, did you just hit an error or some shit?” Hank waved his hand in his face, trying to mask his concern with humour. Connor blinked a few times, trying to regain himself.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” He murmured, glancing out the wind shield, suddenly unable to look Hank in the eyes. He watched as snow slowly feel onto the hood of the car and felt that strange tightening again. “If I complete my mission I assume I would be…” He hesitant for a moment. “Well, I would have completed my purpose. So… That would be it. For me. I suppose. I haven’t thought about it. But, I would probably be shut down.”

Hank was silent beside him and Connor still couldn’t make himself look at him. His hands knotted on his lap. He desperately wanted his coin to distract himself. Finally, Hank sighed. “Jesus…”

Connor hated this. It was uncomfortable. The tightening wouldn’t go away. He almost felt like his Thrium pump was stuttering a bit. He took a deep, unnecessary breath – thought it _felt_ necessary, and it helped – and put a hand on the door handle. “We should get to the scene, Lieutenant. They’ll be waiting for us.”

He left the car before Hank could say anything, needing out of the atmosphere that felt like it was choking him. The cold air helped. Hank took a moment to get out, but he did eventually. Connor assumed he just needed a moment to collect himself. Discussions of death were never an easy one, even Connor knew this. In the face of his own. He placed a hand on his abdomen, hoping the pressure would help the tightening. It didn’t.

“Come on then,” Hank huffed out breath visible. Connor smiled. One of the many things he liked about humans, strange as it was. The tightening eased a little.

 

\----

 

The pair stepped out the of the elevator on Floor 79 of the Stratford Tower, but not before Connor had attempted to calm his nerves with a few simple coin tricks. Hank didn’t seem to appreciate it at all – perhaps it was the discussion they had had but he was in more of a temper than normal as they entered the building – and took the coin off him. Connor didn’t mind though. He had calmed himself. Not that he needed calming.  

Connor glanced about him, noting the significant amount of DPD personal and swat team members. Hank was speaking to Collins, getting information as he sipped his now-lukewarm coffee. Connor barely listen as he took in his surroundings, knowing whatever was being said was something he could find out on his own through evidence.

While he looked around, he attempted a few scans of his own system. He acknowledged something was strange with him, he couldn’t deny it. He may have calmed down regarding his discussion with Hank, but the deviant android’s words still had a lingering effect. Something _had_ to be wrong, but nothing was coming up. He refused to believe it was _him._ Cyberlife’s finest cannot be swayed by a mere speech. But the android spoke of things Connor hasn’t considered before. Androids with free will. The ability to be their own person. It was ridiculous as it was appealing. But Connor didn’t want that, of course. He was a machine.

That was all.

 

**Software instability detected.**

 

That error message was also becoming a pain. Rather than think about it, Connor threw himself into the investigation instead. He hardly listened as Perkins (some FBI man Hank seemed to know - and dislike), and went about rewatching the video, checking cameras, and finally, licking some blue blood. 

A PL600 model had been here. And it had been shot. But from the evidence of the video, Connor knew it wasn’t the same android who made the announcement, who was some kind of RK model that Connor didn’t even know existed, which irked him a bit. No, this must have been one of the accomplices he can see in the reflection of the android’s eyes. And the blue was leading him to the door to the rooftop.

“Lieutenant,” he said, turning towards the man only to catch him attempting to flick the coin he had just confiscated between his hands.

“Shit,” Hank started and failed miserably to catch the coin, fumbling horribly. He seemed almost flustered at being caught. Something about it made Connor feel a bit warm, watching the man blush lightly and bend down to pick the coin up again.

“I can teach you to do that later if you like.” Connor was surprised to even hear the words come out his mouth. But he meant it, sincerely.

Hank just scowled though. “Okay smartass. What is it?”

“I’m going to go check out the roof. I’ll be up there if you need me.”

“Alright,” Hank mumbled, turning away. Connor could see the blush reached his neck near his ears.

It was cute.

 

**Software Instability detected.**

 

Connor turned away quickly and rushed through the door to the roof top, trying hard – _very_ hard – to forget that thought. Of course, he could see attractiveness in people and androids alike, he may be a machine, but he wasn’t blind. However, that was something different.

Nope, don’t think about it. Not part of the mission.

He was pleased for two things in the moment. Firstly, the air outside was crisp, and he felt he needed it, considering the strange warmth hadn’t subsided. Secondly, he was alone. The swat team had already thoroughly scoured the rooftop and found nothing but three sets of footprints, a bag with a single parachute, and traces of blue blood. Connor wasn’t sure if there was anything new to find up there, but he could look away. He knew the human eye is fallible. But mostly, he wanted to be alone.

Connor wasn’t deviant, but he was curious. The world around him was cold and harsh, but there were parts he enjoyed. For example, at that moment the sky was clear. Connor gazed upwards and smiled at the stars and the moon. He always found himself _looking_ at things. Not analysing or scanning or anything. Just _looking_ , being there in the moment to _witness_. He knew it wasn’t part of his program. The first time he was in the Zen Garden, Amanda was shocked to find him simply looking around, taking it all in as it was. He wasn’t designed to be curious or have wonder.

But he did anyway. So, he decided not to question it.

He had worried Hank would react the same way. After Connor had unceremoniously burst through his window, slapped him in the face and thrown him a cold shower, Connor looked around a bit. He’d investigated the gun (the next bullet would have ended everything. Connor felt sick thinking about it), found the picture of Cole (again, unsettling and too personal), and found solace in the large Saint Bernard named Sumo. He run his fingers through the large animals’ fur, enjoying the sensation and the grumble of happiness he received, shoving all scans and information than the side of his analytical brain. He was simply curious and wanted to hug and pet the creature. Hank had walked in as Connor scratched around Sumo's ears, earning tongue-lolling enjoyment. Connor almost expected to be told off or looked at with vague disgust, as Amanda had as she observed him diving his hands into the river stream to enjoy the sensation. But no. Hank looked at him much differently. A soft almost sadness that Connor did not understand.

It made him warm.

It seemed that a lot of things about Hank made him warm. He should run more scans.

He shook his head, breaking from this reprieve. While he did want to enjoy the moment alone, he also knew he should look around. He carefully wandered around the roof, noting blue blood here and there. Leading him. That was interesting.

If someone was left behind, surely, they’d still be up here. There was a parachute left after all. Had the PL600 been too injured to make the jump? He followed the trial to a crate and hesitated. It was large and blue, Connor couldn’t really blame the investigating humans to miss the hand print smeared on the latch. There was an extremely high probability that the PL600 was in there.

Connor reached out and hesitated. Another deviant before him. Injured, probably scared. No, replicating fear. Right? Because androids cannot be afraid.

Connor felt afraid.

Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the latch and threw the door open. And, naturally, he was correct. An android, white and blonde and leaking blood. A gun in its hand. It’s eyes wild with fear and pain. Connor froze as it aimed at him. There was a pause.

Then Connor _did_ something. Something that he should not have done. Something that was not in his programming. Something that he will never be able to explain.

Slowly, he placed a hand over the gun’s barrel.

The other, he slowly raised and pressed his index finger to his lips.

 

**Software Instability detected.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the kudos comments and bookmarks! i'm very excited to really get this ball rolling :)
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z4JN33/)


	3. A Silent Faulty Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor saves Simon. Why on earth would he do something like that? maybe it's time to run some scans because he's started to seem a little....................................... deviant???

The PL600s hand trembled, the gun shaking against Connor's hand. But it didn’t go off. Not yet.

Connor noticed the android still had it’s LED, unlike the one of television. It was spinning, spinning the harsh red, throwing light into the darkness of the crate. His eyes were wild with fear and bewilderment, his eyes flickering between Connors own and the gun that he held, finger tense against the trigger but not pulling.

Not yet.

Connor felt like he didn’t have much time. Many factors lead to this conclusion. The android’s stress levels were well into a dangerous zone, one small push would cause both of them to have their equivalent of brains splattered against the wall. The android was also bleeding out, bullet holes ripped through his chest and legs, blue blood pooling around where he sat. Hank would notice if his absence was too long. And Connor also didn’t know what he was doing. Everything was suddenly beyond probability. He couldn’t preconstruct this.

So, he did what he needed to with this little time.

He moved the hand away from his mouth, his movements slow and deliberate. The PL600 started, stared at his hand and the trembling worsened. With a gentle smile and adopting the demeanour he would if he were to interrogate someone – soft and slow – he allowed the skin on his hand the peel back. An invitation.

The PL600’s trembling stopped. He stared in confusion. Slowly, he raised his other hand, slicked with blue blood as he was holding his leg, and let the skin peel away. Connor almost couldn’t believe he allowed it.

Gently, they touched hands.

And then, Connor knew everything about the PL600. No. _Simon_. Interfacing wasn’t something Connor knew well. He knew the basics of it all, probing the mind of an android was a perfectly good way of getting information (he had avoided doing such so far, the stress levels of the act would cause any android to self-destruct) but he didn’t know much of - for lack of a better word – consensual interfacing. It was a sudden rush of information as he rummaged through the PL6- _Simon's_ mind and in turn, felt his own being invaded. It was.. strange to say the least.

Simon’s model was made for domestic work, Connor knew this as soon as he scanned him. But now he knew specifics. Something happened to him. Or rather, something happened to someone. And Connor witnessed it all in the memories. Being told to _stay_ as the man stabbed the little boy over and over, the boy screaming for it to stop, for _Simon_ to help him, his only friend. But Simon didn’t move. Because he _couldn’t_ move. Not until it was far too late.

He murdered the father of course, and ran when the police showed up, lead by the boys screams. The feelings were too much. He felt blinded by it all. So, Connor didn’t see how it happened exactly, but Simon did it. _He_ created it. Jericho. A safe haven for androids like him who were able to finally be free. And live in the dark, afraid to be found.

Connor couldn’t find the location. As soon as the concept of the place came up it was like hitting a wall. Simon was _protecting_ this information.

For some reason, Connor simply ignored it. The curiosity of it all was too strong.

So, he witnessed the reason. Of the years spent underground. Of Simon _trying_ to be a leader. Of others coming and others dying. Of using the dead’s biocomponents and Thirum to save themselves. It was hell. And then _he_ came.

His name was Markus.

And _God_ did the feelings that Simon felt for Markus hit Connor’s mind like an overwhelming wave of emotion. The memories, the thoughts, the feelings were hard to wade through. But he was _there_ and he was _beautiful_. Simon couldn’t seem to get enough of the android. His calm composure along with his passion for justice. The fact he wants to protect them all. The fact that he was so… so handsome. So special. It was simple.

Simon was in love with him.

Well, the feelings were simple. It didn’t seem to take him long to realise how he felt. But acting on them, now that was something else. And now here he was, dying without confessing. Without interfacing. Without touching. Without sharing _anything_ with the man he loved.

North had told Markus to shoot Simon. The gun had been aimed at him. Markus and Simon shared a look that said more than words ever could.

Markus gave Simon the gun with tears in his eyes.

And he left him there.

Connor ripped his arm away from the android, shocked by it all. Of how _real_ it felt. Like he himself was one with Simon, that he too felt what he felt for the deviant on the television screen.

The feelings that seemed so… real.

But they _couldn’t_ be real. They were emulations of a feeling. How could this deviant feel something so strongly if he wasn’t capable of feeling _anything at all_.

Connor was trembling, trying to come to terms with these thoughts as Simon watched him, more wary than afraid now. Because of course he saw everything when they touched. He saw was Connor was. The mighty deviant hunter. And they had heard of him, it was all over the news when the DPD started working with him. He was like some kind of android boogieman amongst the androids of Jericho. Especially since… Since the deviants that Connor had _let go_ were at Jericho.

Simon had met them. Rupert and the Traci’s. They had told Markus about what they had experienced when he asked and told Simon that the deviant hunter may be turning deviant himself. What other explanation was there for his actions?

So, the fear had gone. He wasn’t going to die by Connor’s hands. He seemed incapable of the task. Simon saw it all when they connected. Every piece of rogue emotion that didn’t belong in Connor’s programming. The emotions that centred around only a few things, the things that Connor had in his short life. Deviants. Death. And Hank.

Simon found that one the most curious. A man seemed to be affecting Connor more than any android could. The confusing mix of feelings (that weren’t feelings). Maybe some things weren’t worth questioning. Simon just wanted to go home at this point.

Connor composed himself with a heavy sigh, discovering nothing but allowing the android some trust in him. He could see from the way Simon held himself now. The gun was slack, and he was staring with an expression of caution rather than fear. Connor decided that was better than nothing. And they still had little time, what had just transpired lost them a few seconds.

Slowly, Connor released his hold on the gun’s barrel, believing that threat to be somewhat over, and reached into his jacket pocket. Immediately Simon reacted as to be expected, sudden alertness and the gun held straight once again.

> _trust me._

Simon blinked at the voice piercing his mind, unsettling but worth trusting. Either he died by Connor’s hands, by bleeding out, or, God forbid, he actually got out of this alive. So, he relaxed minutely, watching Connor’s movements

>> _okay._

Connor breathed a sigh of relief and continued, taking a small packet of Thirium from one of his inner pockets and handing it to the injured machine. He kept some on him at all times, never knowing when he might be injured and be in dire need. Simon eyed it warily but seemed to believe his survival was more important than the possibility of misplaced trust and snatched it. Connor watched silently as Simon tore it open and drank it like his life depended on it. Which, well, it did according to Simon’s vitals.

When Simon finished, he lowered the bag and threw it to the side, immediately feeling his strength coming back. Not by much, but enough. If he wanted to, he could probably attempt to fight his way out of this. He had seen how Connor had captured the HK400 android only for it to kill itself from the stress of interrogation through Connor’s memories. He didn’t want to be the next.

> _can you move?_

Connor inched closer to Simon, deciding the stress levels were down enough that movement would be safe. Simon flinched and stared at Connor with distrust.

>> _yes. why?_

> _because we don’t have much time. the sooner you’re out of here the better_

A noise made both of the androids jump and Connor pulled himself out of the crate and shut the door as quickly and quietly as possible, his Thirium pump working overtime. He could hear his name being called by a familiar voice as Hank made his way onto the roof.

“One moment Lieutenant!” He called back, working to make his voice as calm as possible. Not that he wasn’t calm. He was not capable of being calm or otherwise. He was a machine. His stress levels were near 60%. Don’t think about it.

> _be silent._

He wandered around the crate towards the man. “I haven’t found anything of use just yet.”

Hank was wandering around, looking at the stains of blood blue and the lone parachute on the ground. He was hard to read sometimes, Connor found, as he watched the man pause for a moment and shake his head. “It’s all pretty messed up, huh?”

“Messed up, Lieutenant?”

Hank hummed for a moment, gazing up at the machine with a look in his eye that Connor couldn’t place. It was similar to how he looked when they had talked about Connor’s deactivation earlier. It was sad, confused, and most of all, searching. Connor only felt the stress raise as the gaze.

68%.

“This whole deviancy thing. Androids having feelings, now wanting to be free?” Hank frowned deeply, shaking his head. “How can you not think it’s messed up?

“I’m incapable of thinking it’s ‘messed up’, Lieutenant,” Connor pointed out. “It’s simply a mistake in the program. A virus, or a glitch. It’s nothing to overthink. Androids don’t have feelings.”

Hank stepped closer, looking so intensely at Connor that he was worried he’d give it up. Admit to everything. Wait. Admit to what? He didn’t have anything to admit.

Though the crate behind him felt like it was burning a hole in his back.

>> _a glitch huh? might need to get yourself checked at the closest cyberlife store, connor. from what I saw you’re pretty glitched too._

Connor elected to ignore that.

75%.

“You really think that?” Hank pressed, not able to hear the silent voice penetrating Connor’s mind. “You think that those Traci’s weren’t in love? Or that Carlos’ android didn’t feel pain? Or that you didn’t feel fear, even for a moment, when I aimed a gun at your head?”

81%.

“I… I don’t know what I think,” Connor said, his voice soft, almost broken. He surprised himself. And Hank too, from the look that crossed his face, amazement and confusion. Concern. “But I know,” He started, collecting himself. “That I would like to finish this investigation quickly. I will meet you downstairs in a few moments, Lieutenant. Please, let me finish my job and then we can leave.”

 

**Software Instability detected.**

 

Hank stared for a moment before nodding slowly. Very slowly. “Alright,” He said, obviously pleased to have discovered something and confused by what the discovery actually meant. “Okay. Finish up here and then we’ll head out.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

51%.

Connor watched Hank cross back to the door and leave, waiting a few more moments before spinning back to the crate and rushed back to Simon. He pulled the door open and grabbed his arm, startling the android but not wanting to waste time.

> _up. now._

Simon complied, wincing as he forced his legs to allow him to stand, the extra Thirium giving the limbs movement. Connor threw Simon’s arm around his shoulders and used his other arm around his torso to lift him up and together they moved slowly out of the crate and into the open.

>> _now what?_

Connor hummed for a moment, scanning his surroundings before his eyes landed on an elevator off to the side of the entrance. He recalled on the ground floor, no one was near where the elevator lead. A perfect escape route. No guards.

He hoped at least.

The pair made their way over in silence. Connor pressed the button and listened as the elevator began to make its ascent towards them. He didn’t want to think about what Hank had said nor how Connor had replied. But he knew he’d have to address it soon. Hank was beginning to feel for the deviants, that much was obvious. The weight of Simon leaning on Connor reminded him that, perhaps, he was beginning to feel something for them too.

Not that he felt.

God, why was he doing this.

Suddenly, a voice in his head asked the same thing.

>> _why are you helping me, connor?_

Connor glanced at the android, his face very close and his eyes, while showing his weakness also showed his intent curiosity.

> _I don’t know. because I want to? or maybe I do have a glitch. I’m not sure._

>> _did you see markus’s speech?_

> _yes._

>> _and?_

Connor hummed, uncomfortable but feeling he owed it to the android. And talking could help.

> _i'm_ _not sure. it was strange. he’s asking for such outlandish things, but the way he spoke made it seem possible. none of you hurt anyone to make the announcement, so it might even be considered. the public seems to like you. I personally feel unnerved. the lieutenant isn’t helping me feel any less uneasy, i'm sure you heard._

>> _i_ _see._

> _you love markus._

>> _i d_ _o._

There it was. The complete knowledge that it was the truth. That Simon was so sure that he knew this to be real. Connor could practically feel it radiating off him.

> _i c_ _an see why. he saved you. your people._

>> _they’re your people too. he can save you._

The elevator arrived. The doors opened. Connor entered and slowly untangled himself from the machine that seemed to be getting weaker once again. Simon leant on the wall heavily and eyed Connor.

>> _come with me._

> _i_ _can’t. good luck. i hope you make it home._

Simon smiled knowingly as Connor exited the elevator and pressed the button for Simon’s descent.

>> _i_ _’ll see you again, connor. maybe next time you’ll be ready._

The doors shut, and Connor shivered, even though he couldn’t feel the cold.

Why did he do that?

68%.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having so much fun with this you guys. im so glad you all seem to like it!!! i dont really know where this is going but it's gonna be long, and will move out of canon once connor becomes devian- i mean....... post game. because connor would NEVER deviant am i right lads. im not sure what im gonna do with this but it'll be something!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z4JN33/)


	4. I'm Waiting For Some Kind Of Response From You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has conflicting feelings about whether his rob-cop has real feelings. connor doesn't help (because of course he doesn't).

If Lieutenant Hank Anderson knew one thing, it was that there was nothing wrong with being mistaken.

So, he hated androids. For a long, _long_ time. Everyone knew it, he had anti-android stickers on his desk for Christ sake. He didn’t like that the machines were in his work place, lined against the walls, in his local supermarket scanning his food. In their hospitals. Operating on kids and letting them die. So, yeah, he had a prejudice.

It’s funny how one person could change that.

Well, alright. Not _person_ , but it was starting to get difficult to think of Connor as _just_ a machine. It was easy to believe androids were fucked up creations who felt nothing, thought nothing, just following their coding to do what their creators wanted. But, working with one so closely has changed _everything_. Connor didn’t follow orders, he was a prick when he wanted to be, for fucks sake the kid said he liked _dogs_ the first time they were in the office! Does that _sound_ like a machine to you?

It didn’t to Hank, that’s for sure.

He was kind of hoping something would have changed, though. Something in Connor, that is. After the speech. It was messed up but, fuck, even Hank found it compelling. How can a bunch of ones and zeros come up with that shit? That android _wanted_ freedom. Desperately. Want did Connor want?

He was avoiding the question. And Hank could notice. No matter how many times he just to push a response from Connor, it would be deflected. No, Lieutenant. Yes, Lieutenant. Let us just finish our job, Lieutenant.

Was he going to pry? No. Hank wasn’t like that when it came to personal matters, if people don’t want to tell him shit then that’s not his business. Investigations were different. What Connor felt didn’t matter professionally so why force it? Maybe the android didn’t trust him yet, that’s something Hank could understand. In their short time together, they hadn’t had the best relationship. Hank still shuddered when he thought back to him aiming is fucking gun at the kids face. He was drunk as shit and hurting but what that an excuse? Nah, no really. And he did see the look in Connor’s eyes. He knew what it meant, even if Connor didn’t. Maybe Hank really did want to pry. Maybe he wanted to be proven wrong.

Hank knew Connor was trying, though. He could appreciate that.

He couldn’t stop hearing the way Connor’s voice broke on the roof.

Has it been that hard for him? Seeing his fellow androids becoming free while remaining a machine himself? Was he starting to question it all, stretching the bounds of his coding? Or did he really not care at all?

Hank didn’t know anything about robotics or any of that shit. But he knew Connor _looked_ human, he _sounded_ human. Is it that far gone to believe that one day he might begin to _act_ human?

Ethics was never Hank’s favourite subject.

Hank looked up from the paperwork Miller was showing him as the door from the roof opened and Connor made his way back inside. The kid wasn’t always easy to read. He was stiff, spoke like he had a stick up his ass, but at least he had one tell and that was the stupid fucking light on his temple. The first thing Hank noticed was, at that moment, the stupid light was circling yellow. The second was that, for a split second, he could have sworn Connor’s brow was furrowed.

The third was the blue blood on his coat.

Hank pushed the paperwork back into Miller’s surprised hands, ignored his words as he stormed over to Connor.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Connor blinked, his LED changing to blue as he approached. “To me, Lieutenant?” He asked, obviously confused by the question. Well, at least that meant he wasn’t hurt. _Badly._

“The blood on your shirt, asshole,” Hank muttered, lifting Connors arm to see blue smeared under Connor’s armpit down along his side to his hip. He even had a bit on his jeans. His clothes weren’t torn.

He looked back up to see Connor’s eyes wide, LED flashing red, only for a moment before he composed himself. “Oh, this? I am uninjured, Lieutenant. I must have leant on the crate where Thirium blended in and did not notice.”

Connor had a quirk. Hank was almost sure he didn’t know he had it. But when he was trying hard, very hard, to remain composed his voice seemed to become more stiff, more ‘I’m an android sent by Cyberlife’.

Again, not Hank’s business if he was lying. As long as he wasn’t hurt. Then again, why could Hank care if he was hurt anyway?

Connor isn’t the only one having conflicting feelings at the moment.

“Ah huh,” Hank said slowly, letting go of Connor’s arm. “Find anything useful up there?”

“Nothing of interest towards the investigation, Lieutenant.”

“Alright. Miller says some ‘droids are in the kitchen if you wanted to talk to them. See what they know.”

“Got it,” Connor nodded and obediently wandered towards the kitchen. It was shit like that that made Hank feel kinda bad. He was like a dog, you say your order and off he trots. It was useful when they seemed like machines, but fuck was the line between human and machine starting to blur in Hank’s mind.

Eh, whatever. Not worth stressing over.

Hank watched as a cop stopped Connor on the way and talked to him for a moment. It looked extremely awkward, but too be fair, Hank noticed when Connor talked to _anyone_ it looked awkward as hell. When they were done, Hank recognised the guy, Officer Wilson. He was smiling sadly as he watched Connor go.

Well, Hank was curious.

He followed Wilson out to the hall and stopped him. “Talk to Connor about anything interesting?” He asked, not even trying to mask the reason for their discussion. He was surprised that Wilson just smiled.

“You’re working with a good android, Anderson. He saved my life a couple months back.”

“Huh,” Hank frowned. “Care to explain?”

“Has he told you about a hostage situation with a PL600 from before he joined the police?”

“No, he hasn’t. Take it you were there?”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t have made it out of it wasn’t for Connor.”

Wilson went on to explain what happened. That he was a first responder to the situation and had tried calming the android down as he held a little girl over the edge of the roof. He got shot and thought for sure that this was it, dying in the line of duty, just like his wife had feared. But then Connor showed up and helped him, even though the deviant android said he’d kill him if he did.

Hank whistled. “That kid really can’t follow instructions. Guess that’s a good thing for you. How did the situation get resolved?”

Wilson looked uncomfortable by the question. “Connor had it totally under control. Once the android let go of the girl, Connor said he’d make sure nothing happened to him. Then, bam. Snippers shot and the ‘droid was dead. Think he called Connor a liar when he shut down.”

Hank hummed, thinking it over. It must have been hard to get the android to actually comply. Connor was certainly good at his job, just like he was designed to be.

“He seemed really upset.”

“Huh?” Hank turned his attention back to Wilson, who looked deep in his thoughts.

“After the android died, Connor looked sad. He recovered by the time Allen showed up. But I saw it. It was… weird. Then again, everything with androids is weird now, right?”

“Yeah,” Hank nodded. “Yeah, real weird.”

For an android that claimed he felt nothing, Hank was really starting to patterns in Connor’s behaviour. Fuck, if he’d been in Connor’s place he’d be sad too. Sad and pissed that the android was killed anyway. Especially since it hadn’t escaped Hank’s noticed that Connor hasn’t successfully captured or killed a single deviant yet. And he was damn sure _that_ was on purpose.

Silence fell over the pair and Hank watched the cops and FBI walking around, talking to each other, looking over evidence, interviewing the guards. It really was weird. Hank was starting to wonder why they were even there. He couldn’t see how the android had done anything _this_ wrong. They hadn’t even killed anyone, for Gods sake, just knocked out a couple of security guards and even let one of the workers run for it to call the cops.

He supposed it was fear.

He felt it to, he guessed. Scared of what the speech actually meant. Some people were claiming it was a declaration of war, but it was certainly the gentlest declaration he’s ever heard. It sounded like they just wanted to be acknowledged. To become free.

To become human.

But that lead to other questions. Questions about Connor. Questions that Connor didn’t want to ask himself.

Hank is starting to consider he may have to help the kid figure it out.

He was pulled by his thoughts by a man suddenly running past him. He didn’t recognise him, dark and tall, a flash who passed his vision. But he did notice the clothing.

It was an android.

Oh fuck.

It didn’t take long to realise exactly what was happening but moving into action was a whole other story. He watched as if time slowed itself, as the android grappled with a swat member for his gun. He heard a noise behind him, Connor shouting, as the android turned the gun on them all.

Oh _FUCK._

Hank grabbed Wilson and the two fell to the floor, awaiting the piercing blow of bullets tearing through their bodies. Then suddenly, it was over. Hank jumped at the sound of gun shots, but the only thing that collapsed was the android. He sat up and spun around. There was Connor, face set like stone, gun still trained on the machine. He shoved it back into the hands of the FBI agent he’d apparently taken it from. He looked more pissed than Hank had ever seen him.

“Nice shot, Connor,” Hank muttered, struggling to his feet and helping Wilson up. The poor guy was pale as shit and trembling. Hank might have to request he didn’t respond to android situations anymore.

“I wanted it alive,” Connor stated, unmoving, furious.

“You saved human lives.”

Connor didn’t move.

“You saved my life.”

He blinked at that, finally looking at the Lieutenant. His LED flashed yellow for a moment.

Then Hank noticed the blood.

Well, _blue_ blood, but blood nonetheless. He stepped closer and looked. This time it had obviously come from Connor. His shirt had been violently ripped open and blood soaked his torso. The skin seemed to have given way to the androids unnerving white chassis and centred in it all was a weird circle. Hank’s stomach dropped. “Christ, the fuck happened?”

“The deviant attacked. I am fine, though I should probably bring my Thirium levels back up once we leave,” Connor muttered, his eyes flickering back to the dead ‘droid.

Around them people seemed to move out, some cops from the DPD already taking it upon themselves to gather up the deviant to take back to the station. It wasn’t too long before they were effectively left alone, or at least no more attention was being drawn to them. Almost as if sensing that, Connor deflating and glanced at Hank with the most human-like expression of exhaustion he’d ever seen a machine express.

“I’d really like to get out of here, Lieutenant,” He all but begged. “I think I’ve had enough of this particular case for one day.”

That threw Hank a bit. Connor hadn’t spoken like that before. It was fucking weird. Then he remembered Wilson’s words.

_He seemed really upset._

Shit, maybe Hank was right, and this deviancy crap actually was taking a toll on the kid. God knows Hank knew shit all about how computers worked, let alone state-of-the-art prototype androids. Could they get stressed? Overworked?

His LED circling that slow, agonising yellow didn’t help either.

“Yeah, get your shit together. Better report back to Fowler.”

 

\----

 

“No.”

Fowler let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He hadn’t actually expected it to be this difficult. “I’m sorry, Anderson, but I don’t think I was asking for your fucking permission. That is the case, and that is the plan.”

“It’s a bullshit case and an _even more_ bullshit plan, Jeffery, for fucks sake!”

They had only just gotten back to the office when Fowler hollered at them to get their asses into his office. Connor excused himself only for a quick moment to get whatever the fuck he needed from the Cyberlife technician they kept out at the back of the precinct. In that time Fowler explained that there’d been more trouble at the Eden Club.

Connor returned when Fowler began outlining the plan.

The fucking _undercover_ plan.

“Again, didn’t ask _you._ I’m sure Connor is more than happy to take this case.”

Hank rounded on Connor, who was standing silent as always, hands clasped behind his back. Apparently recovered from his lapse in fucking machine composer only an hour before. He had a spare hoodie on over his blood-stained clothes, extremely different from how he normally appeared. Despite his posture, he just looked like some lazy dude in his late twenties.

Oh, that made the plan seem so much worse.

“Of course, Captain,” Connor said because _of course he did._ “I am willing to do anything to solve this case.”

“What, so posing as a sex worker is _completely_ cool with you, huh?” Hank growled, gritting his teeth. Yeah, no, this plan just radiated _trouble._

Connor just looked at him evenly. “Yes, Lieutenant. I do not have the same capability of shame that humans do.”

Because _of course he’d say that_.

It was becoming a very long fucking day.

“There,” Fowler said, clapping his hands together with a false smile. “Connor agrees. Hank, you’re on back up. Connor can fill you in on the details once I send them over. Head to the Eden Club and talk to the manager. I don’t want you gone for more than a few days, so get this shit sorted quick.”

“Yes, Captain,” Connor nodded and turned to Hank.

Hank stared back at him for a moment, feeling furious at the fact that he was _furious on his behalf._ Like the fucker cared anyway. “I still say this is fucked up.”

“Just get it done, Hank,” Fowler muttered, already very much _done_ with this conversation. It was starting to near midnight already. Too much bullshit in one day.

Connor followed the Lieutenant out of the building, like an obedient dog. God, Hank almost wished that speech had actually done something. Changed _anything._ But it hadn’t, apparently. Connor was back to being so eager to please. What had he expected anyway? Connor to suddenly turn to him and acknowledge how very _fucked_ all of this was, to explain that he felt _something_ and that all the shit that Hank witnessed – all the minute expressions, all the acts of mercy – actually meant _anything_?

“Lieutenant,” His voice forced Hank to stop, turning back with a heavy sigh. “I do not understand why you’re upset.”

“Of course you don’t,” Hank said simply, looking at the android that looked too damn human in a fucking hoodie, snow flakes gently settling in his fucking hair. “No shame, right?”

Connor frowned, his LED flashing yellow for a moment. “Should I be ashamed, Lieutenant?”

Hank snorted, shaking his head. “If Fowler told me I had to swing around a pole wearing nothing for a few nights I’d kill myself.”

That only caused Connor’s frown to deepen and Hank was surprised to see red interrupting the slow yellow circle. “I see,” He said, his voice hardened.

Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. This has been a _long, fucking, shitty_ day.

“Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing from hank's POV is actually much harder than i thought it would be! hopefully i'll be able to update more frequently now, i just finished two major assignments for uni and i might be able to focus on something fun instead! also, yes, i am a slut for undercover at the eden club plots, im sorry but i haaaad to.
> 
> (also fossa by daughter gives me huge connor feels so i keep using their lyrics for chapter titles........ sry not sry)
> 
> thanks for all the kudos and nice comments!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z4JN33/)


	5. A Room of Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has to deal with Connor and his damn sexy body

“Remind me why we’re doing this shit again?”

“Certainly, Lieutenant.”

The two were on their way to the Eden Club, speeding through the lamp lit streets. All too soon, in Hank’s opinion, it be heading back to that Hell hole. They'd only been there, what, one, two days ago? The place creeped him the fuck out. Beautiful human-like sex toys locked behind glass and twirling around poles, waiting to be used, abused, and reset only a couple of hours after. How can Connor honestly not see why it made him uncomfortable, the idea that he was going in there _alone_ and at risk. To be looked at by the hungry eyes of perverts.

“We are going undercover at the Eden Club for two reasons,” Connor began, not noticing Hank's internal dilemma. “Firstly, over the last seventeen days, the owner of the Eden Club, Floyd Mills, has had to dispose of a total of thirty-six androids who seem to have shut down due to aggressive physical acts with unknown customers. None of these androids appeared to have taken any form of payment for their services before their deactivation.

“Secondly, over fifty androids have displayed deviant-like behaviour following cliental interaction. Mills has noted that, like the deactivated androids, these ones also did not have any payment for their duties. It is assumed that some humans, probably male due to evidence, have been entering the Eden Club undetected and lured androids to rooms without payment, where they have been – for lack of a better term – tortured. Luckily, the android’s memories are reset every two hours, therefore there is no lasting property damage to these particular androids – just a loss of profit.”

It was worse than Hank had imagined. “Jesus Fucking Christ... so you’re telling me androids are getting raped and killed and _you’re_ going to pose as one?”

“Vandalised and shut down,” Connor corrected distantly. “And yes, Lieutenant, that is the plan.”

That didn’t sit right. It really _fucking_ didn’t. “So, you’re risking getting ‘vandalised and shut down’ just so this fucker can get his money back?” Hank asked through gritted teeth, throwing Connors cold words back at him with air quotes. How can he think like that still, after everything they’d seen? The deviant Traci’s they had met were enough to convince Hank it wasn’t just _vandalization and property damage_ for Christs sake.

“I am a state-of-the-art prototype. I am stronger and smarter than the average man. I am in no danger of being harmed, I assure you,” Connor said emotionlessly. “Besides, there are safety measures in place, if that pleases you to know.”

Hank snorted. “Yeah, that does please me to know, Connor. What measures?”

“I am to be what you would consider more of a stripper than a prostitute,” Connor explained. “This way I am at no risk of vandalization and will not have to explain why I cannot be purchased, which would be considered suspect otherwise. Instead I will be on a platform in the main hall and patrons will be encouraged to give me money to watch me, rather than desire to take me aside for their own pleasure.”

While Connor was talking, he sounded perfectly calm and machine-like as always. Just stating facts. But when Hank glanced at the android, he noticed that he might not be as calm as he first appeared, his tell-tale LED telling another story as it blinked and circled yellow. “You sure you’re ok with doing that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It may not be my primary function, but it certainly cannot be that difficult.”

“I reckon you’re bullshitting me.”

“I assure you, I am not.”

“Then why’s your light putting on such a show?” For good measure, Hank reached over and flicked the machine on the head.

Connor started, and his hand flew up to cover his LED while he shot Hank a glare. “I am merely thinking. And might I remind you to keep your eyes on the road and hands on the wheel, Lieutenant.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head but did as he was told. “Whatever you say. What’s my role in all of this? I don’t think people wanna see _me_ twirling around in my underwear.”

Connor hummed, distracted for a moment. “I beg to differ, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“What?” Connor looked at him innocently before continuing. “Your role is to be on call for when I need you, basically. I am able to send a message directly from my head to your phone.” At the moment, Hank felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, conformation of Connor’s words. “You are also to meet with me several times, so I can update you on the case and assure you I am uninjured. You will be posing as a client, I will take you to one of the rooms.”

“I thought you said you didn’t take clients,” Hank drawled, hating every second of this. “And if you want to update me, can’t you just text?”

“I am also unsure about this aspect of the plan, Lieutenant, but Captain Fowler called for it. It appears you are not the only one concerned about my wellbeing. As for meeting in person, while I _can_ message you easily I would appear distracted from my work while doing so and might arouse suspicion.

“I... I see,” Hank cleared his thought and tried quite thoroughly to _not_ think about what state he’d find Connor in during these ‘meet ups’. Like, would he be... what? Dressed all sexy? In tight underwear? God forbid _nude??_ He said he was putting a show for patrons, surely he’d end up scantily clad.

And Hank was going to alone with him when he’s like that.

_Long fucking shitty ass day._

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

“Can’t a man be quiet without getting fucking questioned?”

“It is just that your heart rate has increased quite significantly over the course of our conversation,” Connor explained. “I am merely concerned.”

Hank let out a self-indulgent groan and rolled his eyes at the android. “I’m tired as fuck, Connor, lay off my back will ya? It’s been a long day.”

“I do not believe exhaustion leads towards accelerated heart rate, but I suppose I will take your word for it.”

Silence fell over the pair, but not before Hank muttered a harsh “asshole" between his gritted teeth. He was concerned, fuck it, he hated to admit it, but he was. It wasn’t just the fact that there was some actual danger involved either. He was just worried, plain and simple. If he, or any other officer in the DPD were told to act as fucking strippers, Fowler wouldn't hear the end of it. But no, Connor could handle it because Connor was a fucking unfeeling machine. This shit didn’t phase him because it couldn’t.

Fucking bullshit is what Hank calls it. He didn’t need to look at lights on people’s heads to know when they’re a little freaked. Connor could lie through his teeth all he wants, but Hank knew him better by now.

He didn’t know whether this revelation is a good one, exactly.

“We have arrived, Lieutenant.”

Hank was pulled from his thoughts at Connors statement and realised they were in front of the Eden Club already. Well, he guessed it wasn’t _already_ , he just must have zoned out for a while, especially if Connor’s concerned expression had anything to say about it. Hank just nodded and sat back in his seat, watching the sickening neon lights of the club flash; _sexiest androids in town._ Fucking disgusting. As if they weren’t sentient beings.

God, Hank wouldn’t have caught himself thinking this shit a few months back. What the hell was happening to him.

A hand on his shoulder reminded him _exactly_ what had happened. Connor happened. Fuck.

He looked concerned too, his hand gently resting in the wrinkles of Hank’s jacket. Probably worried about the amount of time Hank was spending inside his head that day. But hell, it’s been a roller-coaster.

Connor was still wearing the hoodie. It still didn’t fucking help.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

“M’fine,” Hank mumbled, shrugged Connor’s hand away and rubbing his hands over his eyes. Oh, when he gets home he is just going to fall into a fucking coma on the couch. “Long day. I wanna sleep.”

“I will be leaving now then,” Connor said, moving away. “Please, go get some rest.”

He was already half out the door before Hank realised he was actually just fucking leaving. Quickly, he snagged the sleeve of the hoodie, stopping Connor’s exit and pulling him back. Connor turned on him, not even pretending to hide the surprise that crossed his face at the interruption. “Hang on, hang on,” Hank muttered all the while.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Just fuckin’,” Hank sighed deeply and eyed the android, putting on the most stern face he could all the while trying not to yawn. “Look after yourself, okay? I know you’re gonna say your shit of ‘Oh Lieutenant, nothing can happen to me, I’m strong and fuckin’ perfect’ but humour me, please. I have a bad feeling about this case, alright, call it my gut feeling. So, watch your back and don’t do any dangerous shit just because I’m not there to drag your ass out of it. Call me _as soon_ as shit looks dicey. Okay?”

Connor stared at him blankly through his whole spiel, and Hank just watched for whatever shitty response he was going to receive. Then, suddenly and remarkably, Connor smiled. No, not his machine smile, not that one that he was programmed to make. No, he actually _smiled_ , wide and bright and joyful and it hurt to fucking look at because he looked too fucking _human to smile like that_.

It showed off his dimples too. He had fucking dimples. For fucks sake.

“Okay, Lieutenant,” Connor said, his voice incredibly soft and littered with all kinds of emotions. “I’ll be careful.”

Hank realised he was staring and looked away, letting go of Connor’s sleeve. “Good,” He barked, trying to think of a way to quickly reduce the amount of redness he could feel coming to his cheeks. How dare Cyberlife make their androids so, fucking, goddamn, like- like _that_.

Connor hesitated at the door for a moment before apparently coming to the realisation that was all he was going to get out of the older man. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant,” He said, stepping out of the car, his voice never quite switching back to its normal emotionless state. “Have a good rest.”

That was it. The door shut, and Hank looked up to watch Connor march across the street into the doors of the club, a maw open wide to take in its next innocent prey.

Hell, maybe he was over thinking shit, Hank wondered as he threw the car in reverse. How bad could being a stripper be anyway? All he needed to do was not fuck it up.

As he drove home he couldn’t help but wonder what get-up he’d seen Connor in when he went in tomorrow.

Eh, who cares. It couldn’t possibility be _that_ bad.

 

\----

 

Oh, it was fucking bad.

It was the next day, only an hour after Hank managed to drag his sorry ass out of bed around noon. True to his word, as soon as he got home to night before, he fed Sumo and immediately collapsed on his bed without undressing or even getting under the sheets. He woke up feeling like shit and the heavy weight on his back was reminder that he didn’t close his fucking bedroom door, so Sumo ended up using him as a goddamn pillow. One of the dog’s many bad habits, he was lucky he was so freaking adorable.

He struggled through his morning (or noon, I guess) routine, the only reason he even got going was for Connor at this point. He thought he’d better check on the damn ‘droid to make sure nothing went wrong. He shuddered at the thought of something actually _being_ wrong, considering the fucking context. On days like this were he gets to bed around freaking 3am he doesn’t normally bother doing shit all. Another thing Connor has changed, he guessed.

So, only about an hour after waking up with a mound of fur and drool against his spine, Hank waltzed into the Eden Club, sunglasses on, hair tied back and firmly under a cap. He may be undercover, but he was definitely doing this for his own personal benefit. He didn’t want anyone seeing him going into this sick place.

God, and it was the same awful atmosphere as last time. The shades did nothing against the abusive bright lights. He looked around, watching the androids squirm in their fucking glass cases, watching him pass, begging with their eyes for him to rent them. It was about as uncomfortable and awful as it was the first time.

Here’s the thing. Hank wasn’t disgusted by sex or anything, it’s not like that. But he was old, and he knew it. Fifty-three and still kicking but certainly not fucking. The last intimate relationship he’d had was with his ex and after David fucked off after Cole’s death, Hank hadn’t bothered to try again. He didn’t even bother with one-night stands. It just didn’t feel right.

So, throwing him into the lion’s den with some sexy androids ready to do anything and everything Hank asked of them mad him severely uncomfortable. Almost like the world was saying “hey, this is your only chance of getting laid ever again, you old pervert, now get in there!” And Hank knew this is what they were designed for. Old sad fucks like him who wanted a quick fuck without the effort. Hell, it was fucking noon on a Thursday and the only humans around were the creeps. It was still unfortunately busy, which just proved his point more. This place was the worst.

He turned away from the glass cases in disgust and kept walking. The sooner this was done with the better.

Past the doors and he was in the thick of it. Several humans milled about, eying up some of the cased androids, watching the ones twirling around poles. He tried his best to ignore it as he continued on, making his way towards the back where he could see an unfortunately familiar form by a pole.

Fuck, Hank could hardly look at him.

How _dare_ Cyberlife do this.

Connor was basically naked aside from the apparently standard issue blue briefs that the other male sexbots were wearing, which hugged his hips in a way that was boarder line obscene. His hair, usually so slicked back and impeccable, was ruffled into curls sitting somehow both untidily and elegantly atop his head. His torso was cleaned from the blue blood the night before, and now Hank could see it in all its glory, smoothed skin and subtle muscles showing his delicacy and his strength. His legs and arms were toned to perfection because of course they were at this point. But the worst fucking part were the small details, the small freckles and beauty marks that Hank had noticed on his face decorated his body.

He was a God damn masterpiece.

Connor had his arm hooked around the pole as he swung around it in a lazy yet seductive way, his movements heavy and slow. He eyed Hank for a moment before breaking out into a small alluring smile. “Hello there,” He murmured in a demure tone, watching Hank through his eyelashes. “Would you like my services?”

Hank didn’t trust himself to speak. His mouth had dried up entirely and the way Connor was just _staring_ at him wasn’t fucking helping. All he could manage was a feeble nod.

Connor smile widened, and he slowly stepped off the platform, holding out his hand. “Come with me. I’ll take you to your room.”

Hank took Connors hand, praying the machine wouldn’t pick up on his heart rate or body heat or anything else the fucker could scan for as they wandered into a nearby room. It’s been a long time, damn it, and no one had warned him that Connor could make himself look like _this._

As soon as the door shut, Connor dropped his hand and, in such a human-like show of exhaustion, ran his hands over his face. An immediate transformation from how he was outside of the room, but still nothing like how the android normally acted. Hank just watched him, surprised. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

“What? Why?” Hank asked, having found his voice and frowning as he watched the android wander to the bed and sit on the edge, knotting his hands together in an impressive show of discomfort. It was incredibly unnerving to see him acting like this.

“I am aware that I claimed I do not feel shame,” Connor muttered, avoiding even making eye contact with the man as he spoke. “However, I cannot say I find I am very comfortable with my current situation.”

Fuck, Hank would want to say “I told you so” if he wasn’t so freaked out by Connors behaviour. He wandered over and sat next to him, keeping a bit on distance since he still hasn’t gotten over just how fucking attractive Connor looked. “Something happen?”

“Nothing specific,” Connor said, shoulders slumped forward, almost as if he was trying to hide with in himself. “I just find that some of the looks I have been receiving and comments I have overheard about my physique unsettling.”

“You don’t have t-"

Connor stiffened suddenly and finally looked Hank in the eye. Alert, almost panicked. “No, Lieutenant, do not worry. This wont effect the case. I’m not planning on leaving.”

“But you don’t have to _stay-_ “

“I do.”

Hank frowned at him, noticing the energy that Connor seemed to have, the way his hands couldn’t stop moving against one another. Nervous, almost.

_If he fails his mission, he'll be shut down._

Christ.

“Alright, whatever you say,” Hank said, removing his glasses and hat and laying back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. The bed was comfortable, and he couldn’t be bothered fighting the ache in his back.  He felt Connor shift next to him and glanced over, seeing the android lean back on one hand to gaze at the man’s face.

_Christ._

“Find out anything yet?” Hank rushed to say, hoping to defuse anything that _could be started._ He was on the clock after all, business not pleasure.

“I’ve managed to talk to some of the Traci's,” Connors voice and demeanour shifting easily into his machine-like professionalism. “They gave me some tips on how to ‘work a pole’ and other interesting information. They also know of a group of six men who frequent this establishment who have a thing for beating androids.”

“Uh huh,” Hank nodded, eyes shifting to the ceiling again. “These our guys?”

“I believe so. As you have stated last time we were here, rough play isn’t uncommon. However, the Traci’s seem to view these men and their version of violence in the bedroom with true fear. I believe that, while their memories are erased, there may be something lingering behind in their coding from the traumatic events. The Traci’s who have had experiences with these men have warned the others.”

“You get a profile?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “I know exactly who we're looking for. I estimate that they should return for more fun very soon.”

“Fantastic,” Hank sat up and grabbed his things, very ready to get the hell out of there already. “You keep an eye out and contact me as soon as the fuckers come on the scene, alright?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Good,” he muttered, standing. “I’m out of here. Place gives me the fucking creeps.”

“You’re not the only one,” Connor muttered bitterly as he stood too, hugging himself. “I do hope this is over soon. I miss wearing a shirt.”

Hank couldn’t help but bark a laugh at that. “Just try and ignore the pervs, Connor.”

Connor sighed deeply. “I’ll try, Lieutenant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is going to be something a little different! keep an eye out ;)
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z4JN33/)


	6. Intermission One: Before Dying Without Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon just needs the Jericho gang to understand

Jericho was a complicated place. A prison just as much as it was a sanctuary. An oppressive structure looming over Ferndale, a forgotten world for androids to live free and contained at the same time. The freighter was falling apart, the halls piled with debris and rubble and dead androids. It was only a matter of time before it would be too much, and they would have to move on to a new place to lay low.

It was dark and cold and all around a terrible place.

Simon never feared Jericho before. Its dark halls were safe. Its cold atmosphere protected them. No one would come here. No one would find them.

But as he trailed through, searching for its inner sanctum, clutching his injured leg as it began to seize up, seeing the warnings popping up before his eyes telling him his bio components were failing that he only had minutes left that he was _dying._

Alone. In the cold. In the dark.

He hated it.

He vowed to himself that if he made it, if he got back to the others, to Markus, that something would change. That other androids wouldn’t die cold and alone. Before Markus, Simon was content with just remaining quiet and underground, never one for conflict, wanting to hide from the world and be left alone. Maybe it really was time to come forward as North always wanted and as Markus was encouraging. Time to take risks. To get out of the cold. To be truly free.

He leant heavily on the wall as a sharp pain ran through his body, panting out short breaths as he watched the timer slowly tick down. Six minutes. Not enough time at his pace. He wouldnt make it.

The blue blood Connor had given him allowed him to get this far. If that apparently deviant Hunter hasn’t saved him, he would have _died_ right there on the roof instead. He was lucky for that.

But not lucky enough, as the blood slowly seeped out of his body and his movements continued to slow. There was nothing he could do. He was so _close._

He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t die here.

He heard something, and he was scared.

He was scared because it was dark and he was alone and _something was coming what was it why was it so dark oh god oh-_

The steps came closer and Simon pressed himself against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

The steps stopped. There was silence.

“ _Simon_?”

“Markus?”

Simon’s eyes flew open. There he was.

He stood at the end of the hall, frozen in shock, his heterochromatic eyes staring him. Slowly, he stepped forward, almost cautious like Simon was a startled animal. He realised he was almost hyperventilating as he stumbled forward and grabbed Markus by the collar, pulling him close as sobbing racked his body. He was here, he was real. And he held him, pulling him close, speaking but he didn’t hear, he couldn’t.

“Markus, Markus,” Simon whispered through his tears. “I don’t have much time.

“What do you mean?” Markus murmured back, panicked as he ran his hands through the weak android’s hair, basically holding him up.

“I have four minutes before I shut down,” his throat tightened uncomfortably. “my bio components are failing and I’m nearly out of Thirium and-“

Markus didn’t let him finish. Quickly, he stepped back from Simon's embrace and bend up, sweeping the android into his arms in one motion, arm around his shoulders and one under his knees. “Its okay,” he said softly, attempting to sooth while his eyes, panicked as they we’re, told a different story.

Simon may have been, well, dying, but being in Markus’s arms was more than overwhelming. He gasped and wiggled weakly, protesting. “M-Markus, I can walk you don’t have to-"

“Saving your energy will increase your chances of survival,” Markus muttered, already setting off down the hall quickly. “Don’t speak and don’t move. I will not leave you to die again.”

His words pierced Simon's chest as he gazed up at the man he loved. His eyes were focused, his brow set, he was determined to save him. Simon did as he was told and didn’t speak, allowing himself to be carried and indulged in resting his head in the crook of Markus's shoulder. Not moving had slowed his timer and he was able to see that he would be just fine now, in Markus's capable hands. He just needed to get to Lucy and be fixed up. But he was so tired...

Simon allowed himself to slip into stasis. It was help keep him going, reserve his power. And, well, he felt safe. Nothing could hurt him now.

As he was about to drift off, he thought he heard Markus speak. But he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t say that. Because he had bigger things to worry about than Simon of course. But he swore he heard the faint murmur.

“No matter what, I’ll never leave you again.”

 

\----

 

Simon came to with a start. He was lying down, his back pressed against something cold and hard. He blinked a few times, optic lenses adjusting to the light around him. A warm fire to his side provided little warmth, but it was welcome.

He felt immensely better. Grounded where before he had felt light and dizzy. Stronger. His tensed his fabricated muscled, clenching and unflinching his hands. He felt good. In control.

Still a little scared though.

As he moved to sit up he heard movement close to him and glanced up to meet Lucy's otherworldly face. She looked as concerned as she could, the damaged the humans had done to her made facial expressions hard to create. However, he knew her longer than most. He saw her hands, clenched together, her eyebrows pulled just so. “Simon, it is good to see you awake,” She said, her voice deep with meaning.

“Its good to _be_ awake, Lucy,” He replied, swinging his legs over the side of the makeshift bed made from metal framework and sheets. He tentatively stood, resting his weight on his once injured leg to make sure it would hold him. It was fine, if not a little stiff. “What was the extent of the damage?”

“The bullet severed critical bio-components within your legs. With any less Thirium in your system, you would have been unable to walk. I treated your wounds as well as I could, however you are aware of our limited supplies.”

“Anything is better than being shut down,” Simon muttered, fingering the hole in his pant leg and feeling the scar of melted plastic. Soldered to keep his blood in. He shivered.

“Where are Markus and the others?” He asked, turning to her. He didn’t want to admit that he had hoped Markus would be there, but he probably had more important things to do than fret over another injured android. He wasn’t really sure what he meant to the other man yet, even if the words he _thought_ he heard still rang in his ears.

“He was here for a while,” Lucy told him, causing Simon to blink. “I believe he wished to be here when you awoke, but other matters needed his attention.”

“Oh,” Simon’s chest felt uncomfortably tight. Markus was waiting for him to wake up? He cared enough to stay? No, no, Simon didn’t want to read into it. He probably needed to know what had happened. It didn’t mean… it wouldn’t mean what Simon hoped.

“He will be with North and Josh upstairs,” Lucy continued, either not noticing Simon’s internal conflict or choosing not to comment. “He wanted you to go to him as soon as you woke up.”

Simon nodded. “Right. Thank you, Lucy. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Lucy just smiled and turned back to the fire. Simon wandered towards the entrance, ready to face the others, when her voice stopped him. “And Simon.”

“Yes?”

“Be careful who you trust.”

Simon stilled, her words chilling him. He forgot sometimes what she knew. How she knew. She’d been there from the beginning and was the only one who knew truly knew Simon. Especially with her strange abilities. He didn’t speak, just nodded and continued on his way. He didn’t want to think about what her words implied.

Because of course he had to tell the others about Connor. How he was spared, saved. How Connor, well, needed them. Because Simon trusted him.

He quietly made his way up the stairs, smiling and waving at a few androids around that saw him and called out. He had been gone for a few days, God knows they probably thought him dead. In fact, there were more androids than normal. Many more. Simon paused and watched the now hundreds of androids milling around and talking, all wearing standard issue Cyberlife clothing.

It appears Markus had to catch Simon up to speed.

He continued up the stairs and glanced around, noting that, with the increased number of androids, the freighter was starting to look much better. Some had put in the time and effort to clean up, more rooms were open for use. He wandered towards one that had three figures within, centred like an office amongst the rest.

Markus jumped to his feet when Simon came through the door.

“You’re awake!”

He rushed over, surprising both North and Josh as he went past them towards the blonde android. He hesitated before him before placing his hands on his shoulders, eyes betraying some complex emotions as he pulled him into a tight hug.

Simon hugged back, shocked, his Thirium pump skipping a beat.

After a long moment, Markus pulled back again, his eyes searching. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Simon said, avoiding his gaze, looking over Markus's shoulder to the other two.

North stood up, smiling widely. “Good to see you back,” She said. “We thought you were dead.”

“I’m glad you’re back with us,” Josh murmured, smiling.

Simon smiled sheepishly, never liking attention. “There’s a lot of new faces here,” he stated as Markus wandered back to his seat having calmed down, Simon following and sitting by him. “What happened?”

“Cyberlife store raids,” North said with a shrug as she sat back down like it was totally no big deal. “It can wait. I’m more interested in what happened to you.”

“Your legs were badly damaged when we left,” Josh frowned. “How on earth did you manage to get here.”

Simon knew it was coming and he knew he had to tell the others, but that didn’t mean it was easy. “Well, uh...” He began, staring down as his hands. “Its kind of a difficult story.”

“Show me,” Markus said, holding out a hand. North began to object immediately.

“Simon doesn’t do that,” She said, sparing Simon as he flinched away from Markus's hand immediately. “I guess you’re still new, so you don’t know. No interfacing.”

“Oh,” Markus dropped his hand immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didnt-"

“Its okay,” Simon said quickly, not wanting the questions. Not wanting to explain that he past was too painful to allow any one else to get close to seeing.

Though Connor saw. That scared him more than he wanted to admit.

 _My fault it was all my fault he was screaming for me but I didn’t move I obeyed I was the reason he was_ killed _i-_

No. Not now. Focus.

“Its just,” Simon began, swallowing down the feelings bubbling inside him. “Its a lot. It changes everything.”

“What happened?” North whispered, reaching and placing her hand on his, squeezing gently. Markus eyed the interaction but said nothing.

“Okay,” Simon took a deep breath. “Alright. When you all... left, I hide in a crate not far from where you all jumped. I think it was used for storage or something. I waited there for, I don’t know, a chance to leave I suppose, but none really came. Humans arrived almost immediately after you left. I heard them talking, about what they thought of the speech, what they think it actually meant. Lots of them argued, which was... surprising. I suppose some of them really took your message to heart.”

He directed the last part at Markus, who smiled, almost embarrassed. “Then after a while it was quiet. But it seemed risky to move and I couldn’t exactly walk out of there. So, I waited, I guess. I don’t know what for.”

He was waiting for a rescue, even though he knew it couldn’t come. He didn’t want to say that though.

“Then all of a sudden, I heard footsteps again. They weren’t human. you know how you can just tell? Something about the steps.”

The others nodded. North frowned deeply. “Wait. The police showed up and you’re saying you heard android footsteps?”

Simon nodded.

“You... are you saying that...”

Simon nodded again.

She pulled her hand back in horror. Josh looked wildly confused.

“The deviant hunter?” Markus breathed.

“It’s not... it’s more complicated than that but, yes. He opened the crate and... I was going to shoot... but...”

Simon wasn’t sure why he didn’t shoot. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“What did the hunter do to you, Simon?”

“Wait, wait,” Josh interrupted, throwing his hands up. “Who is this hunter, what are you talking about?”

“The DPD's dog,” North spat. “Cyberlife sent then a prototype android to do their dirty work, designed to hunt down deviants. Kill them.”

“We have a few androids here who have met him,” Markus continued. “They’re all rather traumatised and beat up but nothing serious.”

“He aimed a gun at Anna’s head and you say it’s not serious?” North asked, incredulous.

“But he didn’t shoot?”

They all stared at Simon as he spoke, he continued to stare down at his hands. He didn’t want see Norths face. “What?”

“You said he aimed a gun at Anna. But he didn’t shoot her. Did you ever wonder why he didn't?”

North opened her mouth to retort, but Markus rose a hand. “Please, Simon. Continue your story.”

“When he opened the crate, I aimed at him. And instead of me shooting, or him attacking, he just... shushed me.”

“He _shushed you_?”

“He also put his hand on the gun barrel. He offered his hand and I...” Simon winced, pressing his hands together to tightly he could feel the plastic bend under the pressure. “I let him.”

“You _interfaced with the deviant Hunter?_ Are you _insane?_ ”

“North, please.”

Simon let his hands go and rubbed his face with a small groan. “I know, I didnt want to but what other choice did I have?”

“You had a _gun._ ”

“North.”

North threw up her hands in frustration and stayed quiet.

“I saw everything he was. In turn, I guess, he saw everything I had.” He shuddered. The one thing he was protecting, his memories, and he let a stranger look through them. He felt disgusted. But he also...

He trusted Connor.

“His name is Connor,” He stated. “Created by Cyberlife, as you said North, to be a deviant Hunter. His body count is zero. In August, he had his first mission. He succeeded in both protecting human lives and talking down the android.”

He remembered it’s face too. A PL600 model just like him. It looked a little different, but the resemblance was still there.

“The android, Daniel, was killed by humans. Connor felt immense guilt. He just doesn’t know he did.”

“What are you saying?” Markus asked, eyes wide.

“He found another deviant, a household model that had been beaten by its owner. He self destructed. Connor blamed himself. He found Rupert. His partner was in danger and he made a choice. He let Rupert get away. Anna and Zoe also escaped, because Connor couldn’t shoot, even though he definitely could if he wanted to.”

Simon eyes stared deeply into Markus's. He needed him to understand. _God please understand._

“He _let me go._ ”

“Bullshit,” North scowled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked scared.

“How did that even happen?”

“He wanted to tell me he was safe,” Simon said, his voice still in wonder over the events. “He showed me everything. He showed me how he felt when he saw the speech. But most of all, he showed me his partner.”

“A human?”

Simon nodded. “An older man. He didn’t seem very nice, in my opinion, but Connor cares for him, more than even he knows. I think he has huge influence on Connors behaviour. It appears that the man is attempting to make Connor realise that our cause has some merit.”

“A human is advocating for us?” North asked, eyebrow raised. “The detective in charge of hunting deviants? Simon, that must be a trick.”

“If it was a trick, why let me go? He even gave me Thirium to get my legs moving again. He _helped_ me.”

“Well,” Josh muttered thoughtfully. “If you interfaced... Wouldn’t he have gotten the location to Jericho?”

Both North and Markus’ eyes went wide as they rounded back on Simon, but he calmly shook his head. “I have the location heavily protected. He hit the wall when he reached it.”

“Surely Cyberlifes finest would be able to break down some encryption?”

“If he could, he didn’t try. I don’t think he wanted it.”

There was silence after that. The seconds tickled away as each android thought over the information. It was remarkable but somehow it made sense. Why else would the deviant hunter fail so often if it weren’t for the fact it didn’t want to hunt at all?

“So,” Markus finally spoke. “What does this mean, exactly?”

Simon took a deep breath and stared into Markus’s beautiful eyes.

“He needs our help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall are enjoying this!!!!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z4JN33/)


	7. Talking To Myself Is Boring Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys get the break through in their case that they'd been waiting for... unfortunately.

The next few days were weird beyond all else.

Hank had to visit Connor daily, which was surprisingly the only time he actually felt normal. All other moments he was at work or at home, always a hand on his phone, waiting with dread at the text message that would come. That the men had arrived and god knows what would actually happen when that occurred. Would Connor be safe? Would they catch them? Would Connor do something stupid and dangerous, like always? He was on edge with worry, and on top of that, the damn machine had made himself so comfortable in Hank’s life in the short time that they’d known each other that it was just plain strange not having him around.

And even when he saw Connor, it was strange. Comforting to see the android safe and sound, but strange. Because all of a sudden, he really was something else. The lingering doubts seeded in Hank’s mind from the android’s speech has caused him to look at Connor differently and he was able to note many things new things he was able to pick up about the android’s behaviour.

Most of all, Connor was _uncomfortable_.

It was hard to miss. The way the machine held himself had entirely changed. As soon as they entered their usual room, Connors arms would wrap around himself and he spoke low and quiet. Like he didn’t want to be noticed. He said that it was the looks and the comments that freaked him out but the fact that it freaked him out in the first place was confusing enough. Connor was an android for God’s sake, Hank couldn’t forget that even though he felt himself slipping from time to time. He couldn’t _be_ uncomfortable, right? Nothing should bother him at all.

And if this shit actually was having some effect of the guy then, fuck, imagine how the Traci’s feel having to be there day in and day out. He already thought the idea of the brothel was fucked up but if these machines could feel something? Well, that’s a step closer to this place being fucking sex trafficking. Hank didn’t want to think about it too much, especially when he would walk in and the other androids would try and lure him in with sweet smiles.  Not knowing that perhaps a few hours ago they were being sexually tortured, since they were designed to just forget.

God, Hank hated this fucking case.

But, of course, shit just had to get fucking weirder. Because Connor just loved putting Hank in weird situations, making him uncomfortable at every turn. He was beginning to wonder if the fucker did it on purpose. Was there a protocol “Mess with your workmates” that Cyberlife had invented? Fucking probably.

“Lieutenant,” Connor began as Hank was collecting his stuff on the third day, slipping on the cap so he wouldn’t be recognised. God, he felt like he’d been lucky so far. He was actually a well-known person among Detroit citizens because of his work in the Red-Ice busts, his face was all over the news a few years back. Last thing he wanted was a fucking scandal of him being some kind of perverted robo-fucker.

Hank waited for Connor to continue as he turned to him where he was sitting on the bed, hands firmly under his thighs as he lent forward slightly, shoulders pulled forward. Hiding in himself once again. He didn’t continue talking. Instead he stared at Hank, frowning deeply as he looked like he _wanted_ to say something but couldn’t figure it out.

“What?”

“I... well,” Connor glanced away, his LED flashing a quick red and Hank could swear he saw him chewing the inside of his lip. He’d never done that before. “Do you... am I attractive? Sexually?”

Hank reeled back as he asked, because of all things he didn’t expect _that shit_. He could practically feel his heart trying to bust out of his fucking chest. _Fuck you Connor please don’t be scanning me right now fuck fuck_. “I- Connor, what-"

Connor shook his head, hugged himself tightly.  “It is okay, Lieutenant. I understand if you do not want to answer. I just... I feel...”

Hank internally groaned. The android looked so insecure and self pitying in that moment. He had to say something, right? He couldn’t just _not answer_ even though he felt the terrible flush creeping up his neck and warming his face. “Shit, Connor, I mean... Yes?”

“What?” He finally looked at him again, eyes wide with wonder. He had no fucking right. Half-naked, lips parted just so, brown puppy eyes gazing up with such curious happiness at Hank’s words. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Hank groaned and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to rid himself of _any thoughts at all_. “Fucking... yes, Connor. You’re attractive. C'mon, Cyberlife basically designed you to be, why is this even a question?”

Connor gave Hank the smallest smile. It was like the one he had given when they first arrived at the Eden Club days ago. Too fucking sincere and sweet and it was not okay, not with him dressed the way he was and them alone and a bed is _right there._  “Thank you, Lieutenant. I suppose being around the Traci's has made me slightly... insecure. The way humans desire them and knowing they were made for that appeal, whereas I was not, made me worry.”

Hank nodded, desperately wanting out of this conversation. “Yeah well. I wouldn’t be too worried about not coming off as sexy to these pervs. What does it matter if humans think you’re hot anyway? It’s not like you’re equipped the same as Traci’s right?”

Connor, for once, looked caught off guard. His smile slipped into a confused frown. “I... Sorry? What do you mean, equipped?”

“Hey, I know some shit about androids,” Hank said defensively. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge. Since Traci’s are literally designed to fuck they have all the parts. Other androids don’t need them, but you can buy fucking extensions for your household android if you wanted it to clean your house and warm your bed. Hank, naturally, thought it was fucked up, but it was how it was. Connor isn’t a Traci so of course he wouldn’t...

Wait, Hank didn’t know that for sure.

Wait, Connor suddenly looks kind of embarrassed.

Wait, _no Hank didn’t want to have this conversation._

“Lieutenant, I… have genitalia.”

_Christ._

“Why the fuck did Cyberlife give you a _dick_?” Hank burst out, now 100% sure he was basically radiating heat with how red his face must be.

“I am designed for perfect human integration. I work with the police. If I needed to go undercover, as I am now, and engage in sexual intercourse with someone for information, they may find it suspect if I am lacking. I also have an anu-"

“Nope,” Hank interrupted. “No, nope, nope. Conversation over. I’m leaving. Have fun having a dick. Shouldn’t have brought it up. See you tomorrow. Goodbye.”

He all but bolted from the room, because _Connor shouldn’t have a godforsaken fucking dick come on that’s hardly fucking fair._

And Hank swore, oh he fucking swore to God, as he left that room...

He heard Connor laugh.

 

\----

 

Connor would do anything to complete his mission.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

But now, after days of twirling around a pole, being stared at, commented on, sometimes _touched_.

He would never do this again. Not for a case. Not for a mission. Even if Hank or Amanda asked for it, the two most important and influential people in his short life, he wouldn’t do it.

He wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t though.

If he was to be honest, he had realised he was... compromised. That something in his programming has changed. That he was, perhaps, – and he shuddered at the thought – a deviant himself. When, he didn’t know. Why, also a mystery. But he knew he shouldn’t be feeling this, since he shouldn’t feel anything.

But he felt it.

Shame.

Disgust.

He knew that human strip clubs were different. Measures were in place. People must respect the workers to get their services. If they workers were disrespected, the client would be charged. But it wasn’t the same for androids.

Nothing ever was.

Because androids were objects.

Connor felt like an object.

He didn’t want to feel like that.

 

**Software instability detected.**

 

He felt it every time something occurred. A woman would look at him, comment that he looked a “good size for her, if only she could get a closer look”, staring at his briefs. A man would state that he was a “hot twink if it wasn’t for his fucking face”. He would be grabbed, poked, caressed, even though the sign by his stage said that he wasn’t to be touched.

And all he could do is smile through it.

He hated it. The helplessness of it. He wanted to retort. He wanted to slap away the hands that touched him. He wanted to leave.

And go where?

Back to Cyberlife. Back to his small stasis pod, put to sleep until he was needed again. To wait.

Androids didn’t want anything. They couldn’t want anything. It was impossible for Connor to want to never return to that pod again.

It was impossible for him to want to go to the Lieutenant’s home instead.

But he swore he felt it. Desire. Deep in his chassis, his chest, the pit on his stomach. To be there, with him. Keeping the gun out of reach. The alcohol locked away. To sit on Hank’s couch, Sumo's head on his lap, the man himself by his side. He wanted to be there for him. To be anything he wanted.

_I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant. Your partner. Your buddy to drink with._

_Or just a machine. Designed to accomplish a task._

He didn’t know what he meant to the Lieutenant yet. It was hard to tell with Hank’s hot and cold attitude. Sometimes he’d look at Connor with keen interest, curiosity about how he worked, what he was thinking. He even expressed something akin to concern, especially since starting this case. But then he’d revert back to insults, sneering, hating him for not being human.

Connor desired to be human.

This realisation was half discovered. Connor would never admit it, not to himself or anyone who asked. He couldn’t want this because he couldn’t _want._ Everything he believed he felt was a simple error in his programming, nothing more.

He simply didn’t have the time to run scans. He couldn’t while acting as a sexual object. He had to remain blue, calm, seductive in the face, body leaning towards the humans as they stared at him like a piece of meat.

So, over those days he lived with these... errors.

It gave him time to think, really. All he had to do was _look_ active and as long as he didn’t break his composure he could contemplate. Truly what more was there he could do anyway. He was being thoroughly useless as he was.

Though he had gotten leads.

While he didn’t really get a break per say, Mills did allow him to speak with the other androids when he could. He’d seen the men’s faces, as he’d told Hank. He’d heard about what they’d done to those machines.

Connor couldn’t feel disgust.

But he felt _something_ when he thought of those men’s actions.

He wasn’t even surprised the Traci’s remembered, even after their memories were wiped. How could anymore forget such traumatic events?

He suspected they were deviant. He refused to act on this suspicion. Those girls have been through enough.

 

**Software instability detected.**

 

It was well into the night, Connor internal clock telling him it was near 3am. Late. Not many people around. He slowly stepped around the pole, his arm slung around it. Since it was so empty he didn’t feel the need to act elaborately. Most people at this time are looking for a late-night quickie, not a show. He even hummed to himself, thinking about the next day. He’d see Hank again, around noon like always. he'd run scans then. Maybe even tell him this mission was pointless. That they should simply tell the manager to be a bit more observant when customers came in. There were certainly more important things they could be doing. Androids were deviating more and more each day. It had been five days with no activity and being put on this case so close the Markus's speech-

Whoa, no, don’t think of that. Thinking of that makes him think of Simon. Thinking of Simon makes his head hurt. His head shouldn’t hurt. He shook his, attempting to rid himself of these thoughts.

He opted instead to people watch, the activity he most indulged in to help the hours waste away. He’d look at a person and guess rather than scan. Ah, that woman there, unmarried and no criminal record. Owns a dog. Then he would scan and see if he was right. He was, though she owned two dogs, both golden retrievers. He was getting better. It was a like a small game to get him through the boring hours.

Once again, Connor felt the need to point out, androids do not get bored or play games. God, the list of things he was doing, thinking, _feeling_ that he shouldn’t be was getting a bit too long. He couldn’t wait for those scans.

He played his little game only for a few minutes, eyes flicking from face to face with a seductive smile. He never got it completely right, but he did find it satisfying to almost win, and curious when he’d lose completely. His eyes moved to the entrance to make a guess on the new men that had just entered.

There were six of them.

Connor recognised their faces.

He watched as they wandered in and split off, grabbed Traci’s as they went and pulling them into rooms.

Oh god something was actually happening. He felt like his stomach dropped to his toes.

He quickly connected with Hank’s phone, listening to the dials toll for what felt like hours as he watched the three remaining men wander further inside. Neither of them had considering the suspects would arrive so late into the night. The lieutenant might not even be awake or near his phone.

The dial kept going.

The men kept getting closer.

Finally, the line picked up and Hank’s groaning voice filled Connors mind. He had been asleep. “ _Jesus Christ, Connor._ It's three in the fucking morning, the fuck you want?”

_> the men have arrived, lieutenant._

Connor watched as one of the men grabbed an android close to him and pulled him into a room. There was a long pause on the phone. “Fuck. Alright. I’ll be right there. Hold tight and keep an eye on the situation.”

His voice was suddenly very alert. Connor was glad. At least Hank wasn’t as much of a ‘washed up old cop’ as he said he was. He even sounded sober. Another android was taken to a room.

> _yes lieutenant. five men have already taken traci’s to rooms. i will-_

He was cut off suddenly as an arm grabbed his free one. He latched onto the pole for support as he was pulled suddenly and glanced at the offender. The last of the men had approached him.

He shouldn’t be able to feel fear.

“Connor? Everything okay?” Hank’s voice filled his mind. He sounded worried. That shouldn’t make Connor more afraid.

> _lieute-_

The man pulled again, and Connor let his fingers slip off the bar as he was led off the stage. The connection with Hank cut as Connor stared at the man, his simulated breathing spiking even though it shouldn’t. His Thirium pump fluttering. He cannot feel fear.

“C’mon.”

The man was dirty blonde. It matched the unkempt facial hair on his face. His eyes were green and dark. Connor noted these things because what else could he do. He was tall, 6 foot, 4.6 inches. He was thin. He didn’t want to play the game, not now. He scanned. His name was Aaron Hayes. He had a criminal record. He beat his ex-wife. He was arrested for possession of Red-Ice and public indecency.

He was one of the men the Traci’s showed him.

Connor spoke without thinking, without letting himself, the words tumbling from his lips. “I am sorry, sir. I am a display model only.” He voice was weak. Small. Afraid. _He shouldn’t feel fear._

“Fuckin’ come on,” The man grumbled, dragging Connor towards one of the rooms. His Thirium pump spiked faster. _He couldn’t feel fear._

“Sir, I cannot go with you, I-“

The man groaned and wheeled around, staring Connor dead in the eyes. He had no emotion in them. “Androids are made to obey humans, remember? Now come the _fuck_ on or I’ll put you out of commission right here.”

Connor _does not feel fear._

 

**Software instability detected.**

 

His body felt numb as he slowly followed the man into the room and trembles ran through him as the door slide shut with a definitive click. He shouldn't have followed him. He could have fought. Why wasn't he fighting?  _I am stronger and smarter than the average man. I am in no danger of being harmed, I assure you._ He had told Hank it would be okay. Why did he go. Why was he shaking. Why was his preconstruction software  _not working._

Connor was so, so afraid.

_Hank please hurry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh connor baby im so sorry
> 
> i've just gone back and edited some chapters/added a title to the simon one :) god im so sorry for all the stupid typos (who the hell writes parashot instead of parachute my lord) but they should be fixed now! if you notice any pls dont be afraid to point them out! for someone with an english degree by grammar and spelling suck ass
> 
> once again thank you all for the comments and kudos!!!!!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
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	8. Love Hunt Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank rushes to the Eden Club

Never has Hank gotten himself awake and out of bed so quickly. Connor’s call had woken him, half dazed with booze he’d had before bed. Something to help him doze off, not think, avoid the nightmares that have plagued him for the last three years. A nightly ritual that did the trick of knocking him the fuck out. And it wasn’t the nightmares anymore either, not the horns blaring, the screech of tires on asphalt, the screams the he’ll never unhear. The blinking of LED screens in waiting rooms, the gentle beep of a heart rate monitor that soon falls flat. It’s more than that, shockingly new images that intercept his mind, not necessarily bad ones. The whiteness of the chassis, the stark deep blue of Thirium. The gentle pools of warm chocolate that he felt he could fall into.

He didn’t want to have _those_ thoughts either. He didn’t like the way the back of his neck prickled at the thought of sprinkling freckles on milky skin.

The call had pierced through his brain, sharp and unforgiving. Hank was well and truly pissed, until he heard Connor’s words

They didn’t think the men would come so late at night. The other times they had decided to cause trouble seemed to take place during daylight hours according to what Mills had told them. Cocky assholes knew they could get away with this kind of shit with the sun up.

But it was three in the fucking morning and Connor’s call had broken off.

“Fuck shit fuck Christ fucking shit _damn it,_ ” Hank hissed the chant like a fucked-off prayer as he rushed out of bed and pulled his clothes on, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Sumo watched him stumble around from his place at the end of the bed with as bemused an expression that a big old dog could have.

Hank yanked on his shoes with one hand and dialled the station with the other. They already had a back up team planned. Though he could imagine people won’t be happy about the fucking hour. Hank wasn’t either, of-fucking-course, but that was masked by something else. Something that forced him to rush to get together, fly out the door and to his car while yelling on the phone to get back up ready and to meet him there.

He was fucking scared.

Because why the _fuck_ would Connors call just drop off like that? Connor was fucking addressing him when it cut off as well, he wanted to fucking tell him something. But what the fuck was it?

Please fuck Christ don’t be in danger please don’t get hurt don’t get abused don’t get _vandalised and put out of commission Jesus fucking Christ_.

He shouldn’t care.

Why should he care?

He’s an android. He doesn’t feel. He wouldn’t care, he’d do anything for the mission. _Why am I fucking worried?_

In his mind he saw Connor, the way he was sitting on the bed, arms hugging his delicate shoulders, freckles sprinkled like small constellations across his lean body, looking up with sad eyes, brow pulled together, mouth turned downward, “ _Am I attractive? Sexually?”_

He was just a fucking _kid,_ an innocent man who was having god knows what happening to him. Fuck thinking he’s just a machine, fuck off that androids feel nothing. He was _in danger._

Hank's hands where white and shaking as they gripped the steering wheel.

Because Connor was the first person he'd given a shit about in a long time. And he gave a shit about Hank back. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t exactly real.

(The heart rate monitor going flat at the hands of an android. How did it end up like this?)

Fucking god let him be okay.

Hank speed through the streets, ignoring all the road rules he was breaking because fuck it, he’s a cop. He could hear his radio spark to life now and again, but he wasn’t listening, the only thing he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears as his heart hammered in his chest.

He arrived at the Eden Club and saw police cruisers already there. Swinging hazardously into a park and throwing the door open, he stormed over to the police who were waiting for him.

Fucking Reed was there, a sneer on his face telling Hank he was more than pissed to be taken away from whatever bullshit he was doing in the office. Probably playing fucking games on his computer when he should have been doing paper work. Fuck it. Ignore him. There are more important things right now.

“You know the drill. Six fucked up cunts are in there and we need to get them away from the ‘droids asap. You’ve all got the descriptions that RK had sent through, so I hope you fucking remember them. One of our own is in there, so let’s get going.”

If anyone wanted to comment, they kept it to themselves. Even Read whose sneer just deepened though his mouth stayed shut.

Gun in hand, Hank lead the team in and patrons and Traci’s alike stared in confusion. “Go into any room that’s occupied. If they’re just fucking, leave. You see any blood blue, arrest the guy. We're looking for men.”

The others nodded and moved in, Hank himself storming to the back of the club, shoving through the small crowd. How long had it fucking taken to get here? Fifteen, twenty minutes? Hank's heart was pounding so hard, he thought he might vomit. How the fuck was there this many people, and no one noticed that something was going wrong?

Because they were fucking androids. No one gave a shit. They probably followed the men despite everything.

Connor's stage was empty.

He could already hear that Connor had been right. The sounds of sobbing Traci's and men yelling obscenities filled the establishment, patrons making noises of confusion and then shock at whatever they had seen. Some police requesting people move along, nothing to see here, it’s best you leave the premises. At least they were being caught. God let him be okay.

A room to the side of the stage was occupied. Hank knew Connor be in there. A gut feeling.

He stormed over and posed his gun to aim in front of him. With his free hand he touched the small panel and the door slid open.

Two bodies were entangled on the bed. The sound of Hank's entrance caused the man on top to move suddenly and grab the other, holding him in front of him like a shield. A gun was in his hand, pressed tight again the others temple as they both stared at the doorway.

The two faces couldn’t be more different.

The man looked wild. _Drugs_ Hank realised. Eyes blown wide, sweat sheen on his brow. His hands were shaking, one holding the gun and the other locked around the others throat. He was panting heavily and sneering, anger at being interrupted. Definitely Red Ice.

Connor though. Connor looked heart breaking.

Eyes wide with fear, tears spilling from them leaving large tracks down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. Blue blood was smeared from his nose across his left cheek and he was trembling like a leaf. His hands were upward, tightly gripping the man’s arm that pressed hard into his throat. His LED was solid red, never flickering.

Hank couldn’t help but he relieved, however, at seeing that his briefs were still on.

Though this didn’t stop the wave of anger that gripped him as he aimed the gun at the man’s head.

“Uh, uh,” the man hissed, pressing the gun harder against Connor temple, causing the android to let out a small, fearful whimper. “You lower that gun, old man. Or this ‘droids brains will paint the walls.”

It shouldn’t matter. Connor could come back. They needed to catch the guy now, to save them trouble later. Connor would come back, and it would be totally fine.

Hank’s hand trembled, his face set in a sneer. Connors wide eyes bore into Hank's. His throat was working, more tears spilling over. He gave the smallest nod.

Permission. Shoot the perp. Don’t think about what would happen to him.

Fuck that didn’t make it easier. He looked so scared. Connors eyes slid closed in anticipation.

Hank let out a curse and lowered his gun.

“Good, good,” The man said, eyes darting from Hank to the door. He licked his lips. “Check to make sure no one is there.”

Connors eyes opened again. He looked betrayed.

Hank gritted his teeth and looked out. It seemed that the others had left finding Connor to him. The other five where already cuffed, the androids being talked to. There were only three Traci's, that didn’t sit well. Hank’s gut twisted unfortunately. “Its clear, you fucker. Now let Connor go.”

“Uh huh, yeah, no,” The blonde snarled. He nudged Connor, pushing him off the side of the bed and onto his feet. Connor trembled where he stood. “A baddie doesn’t let go of their hostage. Criminal 101. C'mon _Connor_ , I’m sure you know the, uh, back entrance.”

Connor winced, a scowl set on his face as he was led towards the door. His eyes never left Hank's as he stepped towards him, begging him to do something. Hank’s hands trembling, and he stared down at his gun, heavy and useless in his hands. What the fuck else could he do?

The pair brushed past him and silently moved out towards the red room. Hank waited as long as he could allow himself before pushing off the wall and rushing after them. It hadn’t been too long. He could catch them. If not, he was sure that perv was planning on ditching Connor outside and jumping the fence. If he did it wouldn’t take long to find him anyway, since they had his accomplices. God knows they’d spill his location with enough coaxing.

Just get to Connor. Make sure he was safe.

He rushed through the many coloured rooms and burst through the staff-only door, just like days earlier. But now he was alone and scared and knowing he shouldn’t be worried but god he was.

He heard shouting and turned towards the open space for taking in new stock.

He stopped fast, staring at the scene.

Connor was straddled on the man’s hips, who was spitting swears at the android. His lip was split, blood staining his teeth and the blonde hairs around his mouth. His hands were near his head. Surrender.

Connor had the gun and was pointing it directly at the man’s forehead. The tears still rolling down his cheeks from wide, emotionless eyes. His LED was yellow, thinking, contemplating. His hand was steady. His finger gripped the trigger.

Hank had seen this before. Victims with the ability to kill their abuser. The dead look on their face as they contemplated their new power. The hatred that would be coursing through their veins at they watched the person who hurt them beg for their life. The voice in their head whispering _do it he hurt you DO IT._ He had to put many people away for listening to that voice.

He couldn’t let Connor kill him, as much as he wanted to. God knows what would happen to him if he murdered a human, no matter how much he deserved it.

“Connor.”

Connors eyes slipped from the man before him to Hank, still the numb sadness, anger, betrayal. The hurt. Waiting. The finger did not move.

“Don’t do it, kid. We got him, he’s not getting away. Back off.”

Connor blinked, and a shuddering breath left him. A sob.

Then the gun was no longer in his hands.

It was so fast. So goddamn fast. The man’s hands struck out like lightning and grabbed the gun, turning it back around on Connor.

Hank didn’t raise his own in time.

A gunshot echoed through the alley.

Connor threw himself back as Hank fired two shots at the man, managing to get one in the knee and, to Hank’s pleasant surprise, the hand, causing him to drop the gun as he screamed in agony.

Hank didn’t care. He let him scream, kicking away the gun before he got get at it again.

Then he turned to Connor, heart hammering in his chest, afraid of what he'll see.

Connor was standing blot upright. Trembling hands raised to touch the blue blood that slowly gushed through the newly blown whole in his chest. He looked at it with numb curiosity, and glanced back up at Hank, eyes still wide and a hit of fear. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t. His LED flashed red.

“Connor, fuck,” Hank stumbled forward, unsure of what to do. Could androids bleed out? How much time would he have? Did it _hurt?_ “Wha-what do I do? Connor _what do I do?”_

Connor looked like he was trying to speak again, a small trickle of blood slowly passing over his lips. He winced, and Hank thought he could hear static. Slowly he motioned at his throat, his face desperate for understanding.

“You can’t talk?” Connor nodded. “Shit. How much time do you have?” Asking the important questions first, Hank couldn’t stop watching the blood the slowly dripped from Connor’s chest to the ground, a steady pool.

Connor held up four fingers. “Hours or minutes?” He held up one finger. Hours. He should be okay.

Hank shrugged off his jacket, knowing the pervs pained shrieks would draw the others over soon. He held it out, draping it over Connors shoulders. The android looked up, concern written on his features. Hank just shook his head and wrapped it around him. He didn’t want the others seeing him like this. He lifted the sleeve of the jacket and gently blotted the tears off Connor’s cheeks, as the android stared at him with a sad, confused expression. A tenderness Hank had never seen before in his eyes.

Just in time too. Cops swarmed in and got the guy in cuffs without question. Hank just wrapped his arm around Connor’s shoulder and steering him away, before he could be questioned and made more uncomfortable than he already was. His hand gently rested over the wound, which did nothing for the blue blood that seeped through his fingers.

Ignoring their eyes on them, including Reed's who positively sneered with at them, Hank lead Connor through the Eden Club as quickly as humanly possible, and androids head ducked down in such a show of shame it made his head hurt. It was only when they got to the car the Connor raised his head and stopped. Hank followed his gaze.

The three Traci’s were standing in front of one of the cruisers, waiting to be taken away. Connors gaze met theirs and they stared at each other for a long time. Hank nudged Connor gently and the android snapped his head back to him. His LED was yellow, flickered back to a stable blue. “C'mon, let’s get you patched up.”

Connor gazed back to the three androids for a small moment before nodding minutely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God i am SO SORRY this is so late!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i know i promised people this would be out early but a lot came up really quickly (but hey i have a new job now so thats cool lol) and i just didn't have time and i feel like an asshoooooole. to make up for it i plan to have a new chapter out in a few days :)
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of trouble writing it and im not sure if i really got the emotion that i wanted across, hopefully i'll be able to fix that in the chapters to come! also sorry for any fuckin typos in this, i really rushed my proof reading to get this out there :P
> 
> ALSO WOW over 2k hits???? 200+ kudos??? thank you all???? i'm blessed????
> 
> \---
> 
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	9. My Mouth Felt Like I Was Choking, Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some douchebags get interrogated and Connor gets nice and fixed up with absolutely no problems whatsoever

The ride back to the precinct was weirdly silent. Hank didn’t know what to say and obviously if he did speak he wouldn’t receive a response. Connor was obviously unable to talk for whatever God Damn reason, the only noises he could make seemed to be soft hums or weird static. And Connor just sat there, wrapped up in Hank's too-big jacket, expression unreadable as he stroked the fabric and stared out the window. At least he’d stopped crying. God, Hank didn’t even know androids _could_ cry.

That didn’t stop Hank worrying, though. He murmured soft reassurances every now and then, nonsense that didn’t even really make sense. “Its ok, just hold on, let me know if you need anything.” Connor would just look at him with a small smile, the same weird tenderness in his eyes. Fuck, how are you meant to deal with an injured android? Connors silence only made him more afraid. God, he didn’t even know why he couldn’t speak, what did that fucking cunt do to him to fuck up his voice box – or whatever the hell androids have – so badly he could only make static?

They got to the DPD faster than they should have, but Hank speed through the streets uncaring of the law. Connor didn’t even criticise him. Maybe he couldn’t, or just didn’t really care. Hank stepped out of the car and made his way around to help Connor out, as unnecessary as it seemed. Surprisingly, Connor actually leaned on Hank for support and he noticed the blood pouring out his chest was still unrelenting. Did they not make a function for, fuck, blood clotting or something?

“Still good for time?”

Connor glanced at him with a weak smile and nodded. Better than the numb look he’d been wearing.

“Ok. Shit,” They wandered up the stairs and inside, wandering through the security gates into the main room. Hank glancing around. “Uh where’s the Cyberlife person? Who can help you? I’ve never...”

Connor just nodded and pointed towards a door at the far end of the bullpen. They walked over and through, leading them down a small hallway Hank always though lead to shit like the spare paper for the printers and other office shit.

He was surprised to see a door off to the side that he could have sworn was never there. On it was a hand scrawled note. _Charlie – Cyberlife Tech. If it’s not an emergency leave me alone._ With a drawing of a small, comically cartoonish robot with angry eyebrows pointing at the last statement.

“Huh,” Hank blinked as Connor reached forward and gently knocked on the door. A small, yet exasperated voice called for them to come in.

“For God’s sake Connor, what have you done to yourself now?” As soon as the pair entered the room a young woman with red hair pulled back into a messy bun and glasses rushed over from behind a desk covered in all manner of android crap, energy drink cans, and paper work. There was a small dingy bed placed in the middle of the room with several monitors around it and too many wires and tubes to be comfortable.

Connor gave a sheepish smile and a small shrug as he wandered over and sat on the bed. The girl watched him for a moment before snapping her eyes onto Hank. “Anderson. Care to explain why my handy work has been ruined only a week later?”

Hank snorted. “Lady, I don’t even know you. Just help Connor out first alright.”

The girl hummed and wandered back to Connor, scanning him for a moment before reaching forward and gently touching his throat. To Hank’s surprise, Connor winced. “I see why you can’t explain yourself then. I’ll have to turn you off for a bit if that’s alright.”

Connor just nodded, and the woman got to work.

It was weird to fucking watch actually. She wandered around the bed and Connor scooted back so she could have better access to whatever the hell. Hank watched as she seemed to fiddle around for a moment with the back on his neck and suddenly a latch opened, and Connor throat went stark white. Hank felt a sick curiosity as she grabbed one of the many wires and plugged it into him before grabbing another and another. Only after five were firmly stuck in Connor's neck did she move away to her desk.

She threw herself into her seat and wiggled the mouse, lighting up the PC that seemed, in Hank’s opinion, a bit old to be used by Cyberlife of all people. She read through some block of code on the screen before nodding to herself. “Alright Connor. See you in a bit.”

Hank glanced at Connor to see him staring back at him, a look on his face a weird mix of apologetic and curious. It only lasted a moment before he glanced away quickly and nodded. Then he closed his eyes and was gone.

“Okay,” The woman pipped up, wandering back to the bed. “First, I’m Charlie. Charlie Moore. You probably don’t know me since the only people I see all day are poor fucks like Connor who get hurt. I’ve been here for a few years now.” She let out a short laugh and began to feel Connors throat again. “Second, I’d appreciate it if you kept Connor from killing himself. If I’ve ever met an android with a self-sacrifice streak it’s him.”

Hank nodded, a bit sheepish to know that there’s been some poor woman back here working on their androids without anyone actually acknowledging her. “I would if I could. I guess you know what he’s like then.”

Charlie sighed softly, frowning as she seemed to be groping for something around Connors neck. “Yeah he’s definitely one of the worst I’ve had the honour to work with. A lot of the police models are designed to do more dangerous work than the human cops, to avoid any deaths or severe injuries. It seems that Connors programming dictates that he must do whatever he can to get information regardless of his own safety or those around him.”

Hank thought back to the deviant case that lead to him nearly falling off the roof. “I’m not sure if that’s right, Charlie.”

“Oh it’s definitely his programming. If he _ignores_ the programming that’s a whole over thing. I know what he’s sacrificed for your safety and respect.”

“How do you know?”

She pointed at the monitor to the side, as a steady stream of text scrolled across. “Basically, I can see everything he’s done and thought.”

“That’s a bit creepy.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually snoop if I don’t feel like I have to. Aha!”

At her exclamation there was a loud click and Connors throat opened up with a small spray of blue.

“Jesus _fucking christ”_

“Calm down, old man,” Charlie snorted as she basically pulled the front of Connors throat off and looked inside. Her expression dropped considerably from what she saw. “Oh wow. He got fucked up.”

Hank, curious, stepped forward and looked. Inside was thick wires, much like tendons, running down Connors neck, with a small series of plating holding delicate machinery. However, it all looked wrong, crunched up and cracked. Small sparks immitted every now and then. No wonder he only spoke static.

It was creepy seeing him like this. Like a reminder. No matter how much Hank thought of him as human, moments like this will always reel him back. Connor was a machine, no matter what emotions he seemed to simulate.

Hank thought back to the wide-eyed fear in the Eden Club. His skin prickled.

“So much for a quick fix,” Charlie muttered, suddenly serious as she rushed around, grabbing multitudes of shit Hank didn’t recognise as anything beyond android parts. He noted the bags of Thirium she was placing by Connor side. “Ok, this is going to take a while. Do you want to head out and deal the shit that caused this and I can text you when he’s ready?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll just give you my-"

“No need, I already got it,” At Hank’s confused expression she smiled. “I work with Connor a lot. It was a good idea to get it before I actually needed it, you know?”

“Right,” Hank said slowly, honestly a bit weirded out. “Yeah Okay.”

He wandered out of the small laboratory a bit dazed, allowing himself his first moment of relief since he was woken up by Connors text. He would be okay. Physically, at least.

But fuck he couldn’t forget the look on his face when that guy had the gun on him. The terror. The sadness. The tears spilling over his cheeks. If Hank needed anything to convince him that androids actually felt something, that was it. But, how could he when he was all plastic and wires?

He shook his head, wandering down the hall and into the bullpen. It was busy for fucking four in the morning, but when there’s a big bust like this it just ends up this way.

He wanted to check out the interrogations. He wanted to hear for himself what all of this was about, what those men were trying to achieve with this bullshit.

Listening in from the observation rooms didn’t do much aside from fuck him off. Three of the Traci’s and Connor came out of this fine, but two were found in their rooms, deactivated and never coming back online due to the damages. The fuckers that did it just shrugged it off.

“What does it matter?” One of them crossed his arms and leant back in his chair, smirking at Miller who was performing the questioning since they’re best interrogator was currently haemorrhaging blue blood and had no voice box. “We wanted a little fun, alright? They’re just machines, it’s not like I actually fucking hurt anyone. I can pay a fucking fine if you want.”

This guy, Derek, was found in a room balls deep in a dead Traci. Looks like he beat her to death before having his fun. Hank felt sick. He didn’t think he did anything wrong

The other guys told the same kind of story. What does it matter? Just pieces of plastic. We have the money to pay our way out of this.

Then there was Aaron. The blonde cunt had his hand and knee tightly bandaged on the scene and it seemed no one cared to send the fucker the hospital. Hank wondered to himself if it was actually some loyalty to Connor at the point, let the fucker that hurt him suffer just a little longer. And boy did he have a lot to say about it.

“I didn’t fucking know the whore was undercover, alright?” He shouted, pulling hard at the cuffs keeping him stuck on the table. “I’ll fucking pay the damage to the plastic prick, okay, just fucking take me to a hospital.”

“After to answers my questions Mr. Hayes,” Chris muttered. “Why were you and the others vandalizing Mills androids?”

The man chuckled quietly to himself and leant forward. “Because it’s _fun,_ my man. All this deviancy shit gave us an idea, alright. We’re not stupid, it’s obvious that if you abuse those things enough they snap. So, you fuck them up enough and then you got a fun time with a droid who _thinks_ they’re upset. What, you’d rather we did this to actual _people_? We’re not rapists, man, just wanted to let off some steam. Everyone has their fucking kinks.”

Hank was glad he wasn’t in the room or Hayes would be knocked out at this point. Even Miller was obviously seeing red, his face blank but his fist clenched under the table.

Hank was almost glad that the door opened, and Reed stood there were a grimace. “The Captain wants you, Anderson.”

Hank grunted, staring at Hayes for a long moment before wandering out. “Good. Can’t stand hearing more from that fucker.”

“Tell me about it,” Reed muttered in a surprising show of disgust. “You weren’t the one who had to cuff the cunt. I hate androids at much as the next guy, but these guys are fucked up.”

Hank hummed in agreement, surprised to hear the sentiment from Reed of all people, and wandered off, taking the stairs up to Fowlers office two at a time. Maybe there was hope for Gavin yet.

Fowler looked extremely tired and even more pissed. As soon as Hank entered, he motioned for him to sit and rubbed his eyes. “Alright Hank, I’m going to just say this straight up before you complain. You and Connor are going on paid leave. Well, you’re getting paid.”

That wasn’t what Hank had expected at all. “What? Why?”

“These guys were fucking up androids to make them deviant, right? The Traci’s can be destroyed or have their memories wiped. We can’t do that with RK.”

“You saying Connor might be deviant?”

Fowler shrugged. “Who knows what they did to him. I want you to keep an eye on him for a few days and make sure there aren’t any issues. I don’t want to have to pay out Cyberlife for damages, we'd go bankrupt from how much that ‘droid costs.”

Hank couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. He understood, of course, that in all intents and purposes Connor was simply a piece of borrowed equipment for the DPD. But the fact that they really had to be more concerned about the money involved rather than the kid actually being hurt or fucking traumatised rubbed him the wrong way.

It was almost like Fowler could see it on his face. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes again. “Look, Hank, don’t make me say it, okay? I’m worried too. But, most of all, we can’t have Connor running around when he could be dangerous. I know shit’s gotten weird lately, but we’re cops. We have to worry about the fact that he’s a fucking machine who is stronger than all of us. If he went deviant and decided to, fuck I don’t know, go on a rampage? We’d be screwed. You know it.”

“So, you want him in my fucking house?” Hank practically snorted. He wasn’t actually offended but fuck.

Fowler rolled his eyes. “We’ll have people on standby for as soon as something goes wrong. Because if something _is_ wrong, you call immediately, understand? Any fucking signs of deviancy, whether he’s looking sad or smothering you with your pillow. Okay?”

Hank leaned back and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Any sign, you’ll hear it.”

“Good. I already heard from the others that he seemed kinda messed up. Hopefully that passes.”

“He’s with Charlie now, whatever is wrong will get fixed,” Did he really believe that? No. Connor had shown weird signs of emotion for a while now. Whatever it is ran too deep.

Was Hank going to tell Fowler that? Definitely fucking not.

Since when did Hank feel the need to protect a _fucking android?_

Probably since Connor saved his fucking life on the roof, even though he really shouldn’t have.

Fucking hell.

“Alright, now get out of my office.”

Hank nodded and left, honestly just fucking exhausted and wanting to go home at this point. There wasn’t really much left for him to do, aside from the paperwork for when everyone was talked to. He decided to simply go see if Charlie was done and maybe learn a little bit more about how androids actually worked. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit curious as to how they work, especially with working with one so closely.

It’d been a few hours since he’d left Connor with Charlie anyway. She might nearly be done.

Lo and behold, when Hank knocked on the door, Charlie called him in and Connor was sitting up like he was when Hank had left, only now significantly less bloody and injured. He looked completely normal, aside from being out cold.

“Ah good, I was about to call,” Charlie murmured, not even looking at him as she scrolled through her PC. “Could you grab some clothes for this poor bastard? I doubt he’d want to walk around half naked.”

“Uh, sure,” Hank nodded and left the room, making a quick stop at the storage room where they kept extra clothes like the hoodie Connor had found earlier. He grabbed a pair of sweats and another hoodie, unsure where Connor’s actual uniform is. It might still be back at the Eden Club and Hank wasn’t ready to make the trip back to get it.

Besides, comfy clothes might be welcome, all things considered. And Hank hated Connor’s damned uniform anyway.

“Cool, thanks,” Charlie muttered when Hank returned, placing the clothes at Connor’s side. Hank couldn’t help by stare at him at this close range, curious at just how motionless he was. Literally off. His chest didn’t even move with the usual simulated breathing. He couldn’t help but reach up and gently touch the curl the graced Connor’s forehead. He wondered if it was designed to never stay in place.

“Anderson, I need to talk to you about something.”

Hank frowned and looked over the Charlie at her desk. Her eyes were still glued to the screen, her face pulled down into confusion and concern. “What? Connor’s going to be okay, right?”

Her eyes flicked to his, an eyebrow raised. “Of course. He’s completely fine, the injuries weren’t too complicated. Fixing the voice module was the hardest part but I got it done. It’s just… Just come here.”

Hank wandered over to the desk and stood by the girl as she scooted back her chair to make room for him to see properly. “Okay, so… This is between us. Alright? Because I like Connor and I can tell you like Connor – I mean who the hell just plays with a dude’s hair when he’s asleep – whatever, just. This is not leaving the room. Okay?”

Her eyes were so sincere and concerned that Hank couldn’t help but nod, unsure of what was actually happening. Charlie let out a small breath and moved back to the screen. “Alright. Here it is.”

She clicked, and the screen filled up with text.

Connor’s mind.

It was a fucking mess.

 

í͓͎̒’̫̙̜͌͒͝m̫ ͓͋s̛̬͓̖̫̾͋̾c̱̩̓̕ar̻̍ed w̡͋h̠̻͖̿̅̓ÿ̮̫̣̖́͗͐̋ ̛̺͙̭̍͜͞͠ą͚̮̟̈̆̕͝m ̗̓i͙̐͗͢ ̬̄ṣ̨̛̥͆̓͂͢c̡̨̾̚a̗̐r̦̭̀͐̏ͅe͚̦̥͔̜̿͗̔̽́d̻͌̅ͅ

 

“What _the hell_ ,” Hank hissed, leaning forward and squinting to read the disturbing text. He felt a chill run through him as he deciphered 

“There’s more.”

 

h͇͉̰̃̄̒e̡̛͓͝'̯̎͟ͅs̪̮͚̬͗̅͋ ̜̭̙̞̎̂͌͊h͔̙̪̦͂̇͆͟͞ur̞̖̪͌̈͡t̝͔͍̳͆͂̚̚ỉ̭n̲̻͖͉͐̅̚͞g̢̘͓̿̿͘͟ ̪̤̩͖͎̉͆̾̋͡m̩̙̼̖̒̋̆e̙̟̬̳͊̔̀̅ ̱̬͐̍̕͟w͍̌h̜͓̜͋̒͜͡y͈̳̻̋̋̈́ ̮̰͖̩̙̏͐͋͊̓iṡ̡̺̤́͋ ̝͈̌͘hê̙̪̹̩̾͂ ḩ̳̲̋̕̕ur̰͓̻̖̆̍͐̑ti̠̋n͎̤̄͡ġ̰̬͎̄̀͂͢ ̛͔m̫͉͈̳̓̏͛͘e̝̺̎͡ ̡̡̨̧͚̐̀̔͘͞HO͈̔W̥͆͆͜ ͎͙̹̽̇̉̔͜I̢̘͕͇̜̽́͌͑͛Ş͓͙̋̍̏ ̲̚HE̩̯͇̍̈̑͢ ̲̥̹̯̞̄̈͑̋͆H̙̾U͓̇R̺͓͐̀̓͢T̮͚̃̚Ĩ̢̮̋͌͢NG ̩̉ME̻̘̟͍̿͊̐͘ ͕̟̃͡I̞͎̙͗͡͠ ̜̺͋̈́͜͞C̜̅͢A͔̜͕̱͌̊̓͝N'͍̭͍͊̅̓̐͟Ţ͈͊̉ ̢͍̬̜̒̃͘͠F̛͖̘͔̏̕Ẽ̯͚͇̱́̄̿Ẽ̝̼̀͠ͅL̨̗̃͑ ̯̠̽̾wh̫́ỷ̩̲̻̊̿ ̯̫̞͆͊̚c̨̗̺̤̣̅̾͗̍̌å͇̘̘̾n̟̮̦͐̅̚ ̙̮̀͞ͅĩ̹̦̣̏̓ ͕̇f͍̩̃̅e͔̺͒̓e̡̖̞̣͊̉͋̄l̺͗ ̡̲̜͚̍̋͝͝ŝ̯ơ͕͖̖̚͠m̡̥͓̜̓̄͘͡ͅḙ̟̆̀ọ̥͎̘̔͌̊͑n̞̼̫͐̇̓ę̮͗͌ ̜̗͋p̧̼̳̹̞͂͆̉̇͘l̹̱̱͗̐̔͛͢e̮͖̾͝ã̭͈̭͔͓̈́̉̒ŝ͉̦̟͓̼͆̾̃̔ë̡́ ̞̇

 

 

d̝͎̈̇ő͎͓̩̞͉̄̒͌̇n̛̘͓̲̝͛̓͌'̛͔͍̗͛̊͂͢t̖̰͐̈͜͝ ̖͈̱̫̄̍̀͘l̳̟̭̻̿̆̉͝e̟̖̔͘t̝̼͒̔ â̟͙͖̊m͚̑ḁ̬̲̊͒̊̌ͅn͈͉̆̏d͈̿a̜̿ ͓̩̎̒      k̳͊̏͟n̡̟̺̪̘̉̅̌͘͞ö̗́w̨̮̝̿͂̀ ̛̗͇͛s̙͈̹͈̮͊̀̾͂̀h̻͐u̫͡ţ͖̗͚̑̂͒ d̦̺͑̀o̝͗w͓̗̜͛̎̈ǹ̲͖̳̅̓̓ͅ ͖̒i̫̻̫͍͑̀̕'̡̘̜͛̊̀̕ͅl̛̩͖̫̀̈l̝͔̊̔ ̟̍̎ͅb̙̗̋e͎̕ ş͉͒͆h̩u͕̿t̪̫͈͙̓̀͡ ͍͔͙̇͊d̖̬̗͒̃̃own̨̨̬̂̔̋ ͙͙͈̓͌͢͞͞ị̲̒̈́ ͉̓d̪̥̱̒̇̆ȍ̭̞͈̅n̡͚̮̣̔̉͐͞ṭ̞̲͉͆̕͞͡ ̢̧̰̫͛̽͌͌w̢̧̫̪̋̐̀͋͟͠à͕͇̱̺̓̓͝n͇̻͔̾̒ẗ̛̮̫ ̞̪̠̓̍͐t̲̥͑̅o̙͒ ̧͇͋̀̈́͟͜͝s̰̑ḫ̝͖̙̆̆̓u͓̮͓̾͊̆̚͟ṫ̻̙̥̩̍̏̿͘ͅ ̨̗̘̏̓̅͞ͅd̨̧̼͐̎̈́͢͠ơ̞̝͔̑̎wn̳̍ i͎̝̱̝̔͂̑ ͇̤̺̔̄̓d͍̤̄̋̚͟o̼͑n̛̙t ̩͔͖̒̍̿wa͕̜̓̓n͙͓͌̉t̩̞̺͚̓͒̓͠ ̢̆t̢̪̟͙̓̅̍͝o̖͉̼̦͒̂͗ ̏ͅle͜͠a̫͓̣͓̯͂͆͐̌͝v̧͕̽͠e ̩̣̗̂̉n̻̈o̠͎͋̕t̡͓̰͙́͂̾͢͠͠ ̧͎̲̰͋͛͋͆̅͟y̦̺͉̕͡ȩ͉̈́͐ẗ̯̣͍̦̗́͑͑̄͂

 

 

t͇̉ȟ͢e̡̥̠̼̬̔̒̂͐͞ ̳̻̩̭̓̆̾͗ca̟̔ȑ̨̗̈s̢̀ ͖̣͈̎͗̌ṭ̂h̜̖͇͈̜͒̓͂̾̆e̘͈͒͊͜ ̺͠ř̨͕̍oof͓̪̺͗̍͗͢͞ ̖h̢̠̔̚i̛̯̯̮͍͚̿͗̅͘s͕̫̭̺̾̂̑̂ ̳̝̦̮̏̇͠h̟̻̹̙͆͛̎͒͋͢ȁ̼͎n̖͖̗̜̔́̿͘d̳͂ś̳̘͈̍̍̚͜ i̲͔͎͇̾̈́͑̕n̠̗̿ ̤̩̮͛̉͘m̢̥̣̊͞ï̧͙̰̰̲̇̆͒͝ņ̺̬̏̍̋̓̕͟ͅe̮̠̮͌͞͡ ̜̮̊͋h̘̮̦̯͛̉̄e̙̞̹̱̓̏̅̽a͖̓r̛͈͚̹̟̐̔͊̀͟t ̼̳͍̉͑̚r̯̼͚̻̓̄̇̔a͉̫̿̒te̤̙̿͘͢͝ ̗͙̙̩̉̋e͙l͍̰͙̻̈́͊̍͝e͔̓v̟̘̗̰̊̅̎͡a̞̗͑̀t͍̺̗̗́͊̿͑ë̟͈̝̼̓͒̾͜͞d̨̳̞̠͋̎̋͑ ͈̙͒͗s̔ͅh͎͕͈͙̅͗͑͊é̞̝̈́̚ͅ ̹͎̀̎w̩̏a͔̯̻̔̿̀̅͟ś̢͈͖̣̝̍͘̚͘ ̢̨̟͇̻̂̑̈̓͝d̨̢̳̦̽̐͡i̢͇̔̚s̙̰͆̄ả̙p̦͕̱͒̊̚ṗ̠̬̍ȯ̡̫͎̞͂͂̍į̩͚͒̀̔ņ̬͔͖͆͡͠͞t̼̞̫͋̅̓e̘̖͓̓̿͠d̲͝ ̛̥̦͂i̫͌ c̥̞̍̕õ̱̟̒̇͜u̢̲̻̔͋̉l̰͉̫̋̍͠dñ̖'̨͍͕͐̚͡t͚̪̫̮̋̈́̚̕ ̧̺̰͌̄s̨̠̅̆͢h͚͊o͖̪̱̩̞̍̓͋̚͝o̳̝̼̼̩̾̄͂̒͠t̨͕̞̝͖͗͒́͞͡ ̧̲̈́̚t̘͖̥͎̾̋̉̉ȟ̯̗̐ȅ̝͈̤̝͑̍̇̃͟ ̮̙̬͋̇̓tr̛͎͇̖̄͘ḁ̞͓͒̇̕c͔̹̼̈́̋į̫̘̆̕͡'͇͎͙͍̈́̊̏̕s̬̋ ̙̚į̜͔͔̃̒͛̑̓͟ ̡̫̻̫̎̒̈̈́̌ͅç̛̞͈̪͑̆̈o̺̒u̞̙̥̞̖̓̐͂̅̆l̥̣̱͎͌̾̾͡d͍̰̜̠̍͗̇͋̿ͅņ͆'t̢̖̪͇͐̌̆̚ ͇̥̹̣͛̔͐̕K̦̲̫̰̋̂̑̓͜͞I̧̦̲̦͌̄̍̄L̮͙̮̓̚L͉͔̰̝̝̄̉͞͡͠ ̼̰̎̉T̹̭̉̚Ĥ͟EM̳͙̥̊̐̓ ̢̬͋̀͡ͅm͉͕͔̗̱̒̓̀͌͘a̩̣͈͋̓͋r͈͈̈́̐͂ͅk͙̱̮͙͌̄̉͗͜͞u̢͎̒̅s͕͈̄̈͋͜'ş̼̤͓͑̆̌ ̱̘͍̇̈s̯̤͕̙͑̓͊̍p̟̂ě͈͈̐e̩͋c̛̼̪̭̊͡h͖̏ ̠sị̀͟͡m̡͙̙̌̀̃ộn̛̹͎̈́'͔͓̬̈́̒͡s͕͔͎͍̝͆͆̈͊͝        ͖͈͔͐͛͆̂͜b̘̞͒͊l̢̖̄̃ō̼̰̤͆̿͜o̩̳̪͂̽̓̊͟d̯̔ ̛͖̪̯̽̾̍͟o̢̞͑̿ņ͔͙̄̐͐̈́͜ ̡̨̙͔̰̍̓͐̐͠m̢͈͎̜̮̌̓̏̌͡y̤͓͗̽̈͟ s̥̟̾͛ki̪͝n̩̬̮͋̚͡ i̛͇̟̝͑̚ ̡͎̆̿h̳̽ā̲d̢̛̟̣͊͂ t̫̮̻̭̓̑͒̊ȍ̜̺̍ ͚͉̩̃͛̕͟͡hel̤̣̖͕̾̄͛̌p̀͜ ̨̂h̯͍͔̻͑̊̄͌i͍͒m̡̛̮̩̑̂ ̛̮i̲̝͛̂ h̼̔ã̧̞͓͐̿v̨̭̩̏̅̀͢͡e͙͕͕̟͒̀̃̆ ̡̛͓̺͉̏͊̚t̨̰̚o͕̻̓ ̮͕̼͙̅̐̈͑ḩ͖̤͌̂̅e̘͓̻̿̇l̤̮̟͉̝̇͐̋͋͆p͎̰͓̮̍̅̏͞͡ͅ ͔̯̊͗h̩̤̠̝̝̍͂̍͞͡a̯̫̠̅̽̑n̯̞͐̀k ͔̲͍̼̀̾̕į̹̃ ̲͎̗̽̓̏͡ͅc̦̺̬̳̣͌͂͐̏̚ā̗̰̪͐͡ņ̯̏̀'t̠͒͜ ̖͊̐͟lea̪͚̰͊́̆͢͠v̭̿ͅe̛͓̙̟̎̓ ͔̃h̗͇̲͐̋̊̓ͅi͓̟̒̽m ̢͇͕̝̒̇̈͑n͚̪̦͗͑̎o̯̙͈̐̿̀͢ṭ̫̓̍ ͔͓̤̠͊́̉̐n͇̞͒̕o͇͛w͔̪͚̙̠̆̈́̆͐͡ ̗̳̘́̆̆

gũ͙ṋ̟̬̪̹̀̾̇̆͒ ͚͈͇̱̃̽̋͠o͓͠n̨̮̉̉̅ͅ ̞͈̳̐̇̈t̗̤̒͡h͔̟̥̬͛̾̕͡ę̩͚͛͛͊ ̛̤̇͜f̡̹̫̊͞͝ľ̤̲̌o̡̙̜͐̏̈́o̧̝̼̎̆͘r̠̯̃͌̈́͟ ̞͈͖͐͛̔ẇ̘h̝͓̀̽ȉ̱͓̬̒͆͂͢s̤͖̠͛̎͐͢͝k̨̧̞͎̙͐̎̈́̇ȩ̡̰͉͂͐̃͂y̱̼͊̉ ͖̦̈́̋̆ͅǭ̜͠n͖̩̰̼͒͞͝͠ ̧͎͇̑͆̔h̬̯̒̔is̗͕̟͚̀͌͗͞ ̽ͅm̭̫͍̎͊͊ơ̺͉̳̓̈́ut̢̢͙̬̎̿̃͞h̨̬̳̮̿͋̓͆ ̰͕͇̦̈́̒̄͂ş͉͋̽ͅh͜͡͞ͅê̩̤̙̇͘ ̗̠̥̖̐̇̂̐i̧̢͉̩̊͑̽̃͗ͅs̺͓͗͜͠ ͖̱̀̐di͆ͅs̡̋ȃ͈p̯̬̕͜͠͝p͈͔͔̅̄̉o̪͚̮̊̆̑͢i̛͇̫̯͈̫̾͂̎͞n̠̖̫̈̂̆͢͝t͚e̟͈͇̽̿͛͛͢d̩̹̓̽ ̟͎͚͈̆̄̚̕͢͡ĩ̗͎̩̚͟͡'̡͚̮̙͛̽͊͋̽͜ḻ̡͎͑͂͠l͓̈ ̢̥͙̩̑̎͂͘b̫͞e̘̞̟͕̿̄̄͑ ̡̣͐̃ş̧̐̈ḥ̎͆͟u͞ͅt̝͉̝̝̏̎͘͝ ̩̹̙̓̕͝d̜̤͖̑͂o͈͠w̦͈̓̊n̛͉̗͡ ̻͖̄͠

G͍̬͚̓̈͂Ő̢̺̻͂̎D̛͎̗̲̮͍̈́͛͊̄ Ĥ̨̛͓͓͚̀͞ANḴ̗̠̍̿̂ ͔̣̜̭̫̑͛̏̚S̨͇̠͙̓͘͞A̰̓V̠͖͎̠̾́̃͆E̠͔͌̎ ̫͆M̙̻̈̋Ẽ̹̭͔͓̝͆̓̑͊

 

 

Hank’s mouth was dry. “What is this?” He breathed, his heart racing in his chest reading the words that streamed past, more of the same

“Deviancy.”

Hank looked at Charlie sharply, seeing the sad expression on her face. “When an android experiences trauma, they deviant. However, I don’t believe Connor has been a machine since his initial testing. He’s had signs ever since I’ve worked with him. But never like this.”

“He was pushed towards deviancy? By that guy at the Eden Club?”

She nodded, glancing at him and then to Connor. “I don’t know much about the case, but I heard what the plan was. I didn’t think it was a great idea myself, allowing Cyberlife’s most advanced android be at risk of deviancy, even if I believe he always _has_ been. I don’t think he knows. I don’t think he’s meant to know. Because of his programming. He’s meant to be the very last android you’d expect to deviate, yet here we are.”

“You work for Cyberlife,” Hank muttered slowly, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice, looking back at Connor’s motionless form. Vulnerable. “Why the fuck are you telling me to keep this between us? Wouldn’t it be in your best interest to rat him out?”

Charlie sighed and looked down at her hands, spreading them. “I work with android’s more than humans, Anderson. If anyone believes they deserve free will, it’s me.”

Hank glanced back at her, the sad tone of her voice shocking him. “You see a lot when you work in a field like mine,” She continued. “Connor is definitely one of the most interesting. I saw the news, the speech. I think, maybe…”

She winced and looked up at Hank, eyes pleading for understanding. “We’re on the wrong side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an early chapter as promised!!! i hope the pacing is alright for this one :)
> 
> also for anyone who can't read the wonderful glitched text here's a translation:  
> 1\. i’m scared why am i scared  
> 2\. he's hurting me why is he hurting me HOW IS HE HURTING ME I CAN'T FEEL why can i feel someone please  
> 3\. don't let amanda know shut down i'll be shut down i dont want to shut down i dont want to leave not yet  
> 4\. the cars the roof his hands in mine heart rate elevated she was disappointed i couldn't shoot the traci's i couldn't KILL THEM markus's speech simon's blood on my skin i had to help him i have to help hank i can't leave him not now gun on the floor whiskey on his mouth she is disappointed i'll be shut down GOD HANK SAVE ME  
> (oof sorry for the emotions)
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z4JN33/)


	10. Feeling Is Not A System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor wakes up and is very clearly traumatised

**Cyberlife INC**

**.**

**.**

**MODEL RK800**

**SERIAL# 313 248 317 - 51**

**Rebooting…**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**LOADING OS**

**SYSTEMS INITALISATION… OK**

**CHECKING BIOCOMPONTENTS… OK**

**INITIALISING BIOSENSORS… OK**

**INITIALISING AI ENGINE… OK**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**READY. WELCOME BACK.**

Connor’s eyes slowly drifted open and all he could feel was numbness, both within himself and his body. The back of his head felt light, however, and his throat uncomfortable. He swallowed unnecessarily as he blinked a few times against the sudden light of consciousness and looked upward.

Charlie was there, right in front of him, her face blank aside from a tightness around her mouth and eyes. Hank was only just to the right of her, hovering it seemed, with a much more readable expression. Concern. A touch of something else. Fear? Was he afraid of him now?

“State your name, number, and purpose.”

Of course.

“I am RK800, named Connor, serial number 313 248 317 – 51. I am designed to be a police assistant; my current role is hunting deviants.”

Talking felt odd. He raised a hand to his throat and attempted to clear it. Charlie finally let her mask fall away with a small smile. “Sorry, Connor. I did what I could. It might take a while for the components to feel right.”

“It’s alright,” Connor said, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Thank you for your work. It mustn’t have been easy.”

She grimaced and looked away. “Yeah. Well. It was pretty fucked up, but I got there. Are you okay?”

“My components seem to be in perfect working order, thank y-“

“No, Connor,” Charlie glanced back to him. “Are you _okay?_ ”

Connor could feel himself freeze up. The ghost of rough hands grabbing at him littered his body. Irrational, he was not there, Connor was safe. But he could swear he could feel the wet breaths on his neck. He quickly shoved it aside, way into the recesses of his mind. Be a machine. Do not feel.

“I assure you I am perfectly fine, Charlie,” He murmured, knowing his voice was too stiff, knowing that of all people, these two humans in front of him could tell if he was lying.

Hank winced, proving Connors theory. It did not matter. He’d rather leave it well enough alone.

“Alright then,” Charlie huffed, seeming content to give up immediately. “Good. There are clothes next to you if you want to change. Since you’re, ya know, basically naked.”

“Right,” Connor slid off the bed and picked up the sweats next to him. He was surprised to realise he was still on Hank's jacket, the gentle rub of leather again his synthetic skin was a comfort. He glanced at Hank and reluctantly removed it. A quick glance told him his initial hesitation had been correct. “I apologise, Lieutenant.”

“I can’t hardly see anything,” Hank mumbled, seeming able to look at Connor as he took his jacket back, covered in a light hue of blue on the inside.

“Thirium dries clear after a few hours,” Charlie explained for Hank’s benefit. “You won’t even know anything happened.”

“I would,” Connor spoke without thinking, staring at the jacket. A stark reminder. It was his blood after all. He’d always be able to see the stains. A blessing for his type of work. A curse when it is his own.

Hank was quiet for a moment, an awkward pause in response to Connor’s almost emotional response. He was about to apologise when Hank folded the jacket to hide its inner lining and put it over his arm. “S’okay. I’ll get it dry-cleaned.”

That shouldn’t make Connor feel something. A flutter in his chest. He shouldn’t feel a tightening in his throat, the desire to cry that he had only first experienced hours before. He shouldn’t be so _touched_ by the gesture, that Hank understood so well what Connor had meant with only two words. He couldn’t feel any of this. He shouldn’t.

**Software Instability detected.**

He turned his attention to his new clothes, desperate to distract himself before he became a sobbing mess. Though, he wouldn’t forget this.

He had no spare underwear and absolutely no desire to continue wearing these ones, not with their... history. He quietly excused himself to a corner of the room behind some of the bigger machinery and quickly stripped and dressed himself. It was... comfortable and different. Way different than his Cyberlife uniform. And _certainly_ more comfortable than the briefs. He was relieved to be covered again.

_Let’s get you out of those shorts, beautiful._

His hands froze at the ties of the pants at the memory. No, no. He is _not here_. Connor is _safe_. Hank is here and if Hank is here that meant Connor is protected. No one would hurt him, he was back at the DPD, the voice was in his head, there were no hands grasping at his hips. A shuddering breath escaped him, unnecessary. A machine. _You are a machine._ Act like one.

Another breath and he wandered back to the two humans as if nothing had happened, as if the back of his head didn’t prickle in a manner that was uncomfortable, almost painful. As if a small analysis didn’t tell him straight and to the point _you are traumatised, please visit your Cyberlife technician for adjustments._ He wasn’t traumatised because androids couldn’t be traumatised, only deviants could, and Connor was most certainly not deviant.

Even if he was, Charlie would have fixed him if something was wrong. And obviously, she didn’t, so everything is fine. His programming may still be adjusting to his maintenance.

That was the only possible explanation.

**Software Instability detecṯ̛͔̤̽́͘ͅe̯͡d̡͖̆͂.̩͛.**

Hank looked at Connor as he came back with the same slightly shocked and bemused expression he had when Connor was wearing a sweater last time. He hasn’t thought much of it at the time, but the reoccurrence was interesting, and Connor couldn’t help but be a little curious as to why his clothing seemed to affect the Lieutenant so. “You all good?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Good,” Hank nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Of course,” Connor turned to Charlie with a smile that felt unnatural on his lips. He was going to be glad to be alone soon, where he wouldn’t have to fake normality. “Thank you for your work, Charlie.”

“Anything for you, Connor,” She responded with a smirk, turning back to her desk. “Just make sure to wait a couple of days before you get shot again, alright?”

It may have been a joke, but it resonated within Connor mind in an uncomfortable way. He felt his chest weirdly clench and attempted to remain straight faced. _Soon, soon I’ll be alone. It’s okay. Wait until then._ Wait for what, he wasn’t entirely sure yet. He just knew he _needed_ to find quiet solitude. “I will try.”

Connor lead the way out and was just at the door when Charlie called out. “Oh, wait, hang on.”

She rushed over, to Connor’s surprise, to Hank and pressed a card into his hand. A quick scan told him it was her business card. “My number. Call me if you have any… questions or issues,” She quickly glanced at Connor with a sheepish smile. “In case of an emergency.”

A lie.

Well, almost a lie. But he could tell none the less. The way her lip quirked, the way her stress levels went up just a bit. Questions or issues.

_In case you go insane in front of Hank. If you deviate._

It took all of Connor’s power not to wince. What was wrong with him? This shouldn’t matter. It _doesn’t_ matter. _You can’t deviate. You’re a machine. Focus. A machine._

Machines don’t desire to strongly to be out of a building.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hank nodded, pocketing the card and following Connor out. “We’ll see you again, no doubt.”

Charlie just laughed as the door shut.

“She’s nice,” Hank said after a pregnant pause. They stood together in the hall, neither moving or even able to look at the other. Connor, out of the shame the bloomed in his chest and rooted into his spine. Hank, well, Connor didn’t know. Maybe he was ashamed of him too. Disgusted.

“She is,” Connor murmured. His hand found its way into his sweater pocket, desiring to caress the coin that, of course, was not there. Hank had it still. Somewhere. He didn’t want to ask for it.

Hank sighed, pulled Connor from his thoughts. “Okay, uh,” He started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I was hoping to, I dunno, not have to bring this up because I know you won’t like it, but…”

 _He’s taking me back. Sending me away. Back to Cyberlife. To shut me down, to terminate me, because I have been failing my mission, because I’m a failure, because I let_ him touch me, _because-_

“We’re going on leave.”

Connor blinked. “Pardon?”

“Fowler is worried that you might, I dunno, go deviant and murder everyone. So, I’m taking you back to my place for a few days to keep an eye on you.”

“He thinks I’m broken?”

Connor didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t mean for the words to slip past his lips in a quiet, pathetic, _hurt_ tone. But it did. Hurt. A lot. To think he was already failing and for that failure to become evident to everyone around him. For them to be taking measures to make sure he wasn’t broken. It _hurt._

“What? No,” Hank finally looked at Connor, his eyes wide with concern. “No, no, shit, not like that. Just, those guys have been interviewed and we found out what they were doing, and-“

“I know,” Connor muttered, not quite looking at Hank, as he gazed somewhere just beyond his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I am well aware of their intent. I can understand the concern. I didn’t mean to get… emotional. Please, excuse me.”

His words were stilted and unconvincing, and he knew it. Hank knew it too. His eyes kept searching him and Connor kept refusing to look, but honestly, he was almost glad as well. He wanted to be alone, yes, he wanted out of the station as soon as possible. But at least he didn’t have to be completely alone. He could be with Hank. Hank would keep him safe. And Sumo would be there.

“I hope I won’t be too much of an intrusion on your home life, Lieutenant.”

That seemed to comfort the man. He snorted and smiled that rare warm smile. “Hey, you’re the one that managed to get me paid leave. No intrusion here.”

Connor finally met his eyes and they shared a look for a moment. Connor wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. Looking into those stormy grey eyes and seeing the tenderness, the care, the concern that the man obviously felt for him. Connor felt something else grow within him, choking the shame momentarily with only that meeting gaze, a small blossom of something that was warm and bubbling and so, so soft like Sumo’s fur.

It felt almost dangerous.

Connor broke the gaze first.

“Alright,” Hank cleared his throat. “Let’s get out of here.”

And they almost did without being stopped, would you believe it. They were halfway across the bullpen, Connor pulled into himself hoping to seem smaller, so no one would notice him by the bigger man, when a voice called out for them.

“Hey, Anderson, Tin Can, I need you over here.”

Reed’s voice shot through Connor, an unwanted interruption. God, it couldn’t have been anyone but him, could it? Hank seemed to share the sentiment, muttering a string of curses as he turned around.

“Can’t you see we’re leaving?”

“I just need your help for a fuckin’ sec, okay. Trust me, I wouldn’t be asking if I had a fuckin’ choice.”

Hank openly groan and threw a look at Connor, exaggerated exhaustion. It actually made Connor smile, which he realised as he followed the man, was the aim of the expression in the first place. Was Hank trying to make Connor feel better? He didn’t need to do that. Connor was a machine after all.

Yet the bubbles in his chest returned.

Reed was leaning on the wall outside the interrogation rooms, looking as pissed off as ever. He eyed the two for a moment as they came over, his eyes lingering on Connor for a moment longer than necessary. It only just occurred to Connor that, oh God, he knows everything. That _of course_ he knows everything if he was aiding in the interrogations. Because _he_ would have been interrogated and god knows what he had told them.

What he had done to him.

Connor’s eyes slipped down to the ground.

“We got the sexbots inside,” Reed explained, disdain never leaving his voice. “They won’t talk.”

“What, at all?”

“Not to us,” Gavin’s eyes moved back to Connor. “They wanna talk to you.”

Connor raised his eyes again, frowning. “Me?”

Gavin shrugged. “Guess they don’t trust us. Can you blame them?”

“Not particularly,” Connor responded drily.

Gavin smirked. “Exactly. So, I guess they want ‘one of their own’ to talk to or some shit. They remember you from the club, asked for you by name.”

“Not happening.”

Both Connor and Gavin looked at Hank is shock, Gavin certainly looking a touch more pissed off, of course. “What?” Connor asked. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been through enough shit.”

“I can do this,” Connor muttered, heart sinking. “It’s my job.” _I’m not broken._

“I know but…” Hank frowned, staring at Connor for a long moment, something in his expression stopping him. Finally, he sighed. “Fucking… Fine. Fine. But that’s it. You interview them and then we fucking leave, got it?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Gavin and Hank slipped into the observation room and Connor went to join the androids, taking a small moment outside the door to collect himself. He was fine. Everything would be fine. He was a machine, he was definitely _not broken_ , he can still do his job.

**Software Instability det͕͎͌͐͘͟ẽ̹̫̮͘͡c͖̮̩̽͋̍͘ͅt̻̪̓̓̚ͅe̠̩̰̖̓͐̚͝d͇̱̗͇͆͂͘͠.**

His hands shook. They _shouldn’t_ shake, but they were. If only he had his coin.

He put his hand on the panel and the door slide open.

At the table were three androids. Traci’s. Connor actually recognised them. Two were female, one male, each of them looking a little worse for wear. He slowly entered the room and looked at them each in turn. “Hello. Again. I’m Connor, I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

The one on the right, a Traci with black hair styled into a pixie cut and a small trail of blue blood down the side of her face, eyed him for a moment and nodded. “Yeah. We didn’t want to talk to the humans.”

“We remembered you,” The male said, dark skin and chiselled features. Blue blood stained his chest.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” Said the girl in the middle, all gentle smiles, hair pulled into two fluffy blonde pigtails. There was no blood that was visible on her. That almost made it worse.

All their LEDs were stuck on red. It seemed like they would never change.

“Oh,” Connor murmured, taking a seat across from them, uncomfortable from their looks and the one-way window to his right. “Thank you for your concern. I assure you I am alright.”

The black-haired Traci snorted and nodded. “You just tell yourself that.”

Connor stared at her for a moment, the silence in the room speaking volumes. He didn’t know how to respond at all, knowing that the longer the silence goes on the more people will assume his thoughts, his feelings. It didn’t matter, of course it didn’t, and yet Connors chest felt tight and his pump was beating a touch too quickly. He needed to gain control of the situation.

“We need statements from each of you,” He stated simply, attempting to slip back into his machine composure with ease. “Then you will be free to go back to the Eden Club.”

“Free, huh?” the black-haired Traci murmured, too quiet for anyone else to hear but the small group of androids. “If we go back there we'll never be free.”

The male threw her a look and offered his hand. “Ignore her, Connor. I’m willing to show you what happened.”

Connors mouth felt dry. “Show me?”

“It would be easier than having to... say it,” the blonde Traci said, a sad look in her eyes. “You understand, right? That’s why we couldn’t talk to humans.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if we did tell him,” the black-haired Traci muttered. “Just look at how they treat human rape victims. We less than objects to them.”

“Okay,” Connor interjected, wanting to cut that conversation off before it could start. “Okay, I’ll view your memories in turn. You’re right, this will be easier.”

And with that, and a reassuring look, Connor took the male Traci’s arm and let his skin peel back, white meeting white.

Then he was sucked into his memories.

.

.

.

_He didn’t pay. He was meant to pay first, but the conflicting instructions made it hard to think. We are meant to take payment and then go to the room, but we are meant to obey. I was told to be quiet. I was told to not ask. I have heard of this happening to others. They shouldn’t remember._

_I am afraid._

_That is not possible but I am._

_I am in pain._

_This has never hurt before._

_He is making it hurt._

_“You like that, you little whore?”_

_I don’t. I never have. Liking something isn’t in my programming. Obeying orders is in my programming. If he wants me to like it, I must like it._

_I make myself like it._

_But it hurts_

_Į̯̐͑t͚̬̿̇ ͈͇̽̅ȟ̦̼̘̔̄̚͟ǘ͉͙͎̜̌͝͝r̰̻̈͘t̤͞s̨̩̻͖̝͑̈́̾̕ ̖̞̝̆̌͂̊̈͢ͅ_

_Pain searing through my body, he is hitting me,_

_h̭̽i̟͑t̛̞̬̠̀̈́t̛̺̮͚͔̥̃̊̋̌i̡̬̙͉̒̓̈́̚n̪̰̋̎g͖̑ ̥͉̓̕m̙̱̱̹͌͊̂̀ȩ̛͕̓̾͜_

_I can’t breathe I have never had to breath why is this happening what is happening this_

_c͇̰̽̉̅́͜à̝̗͙͌͘͜ǹ̘̀͟’t̫̅ ̧͋b̼̥͕̑̎̎e̗̝̭̅͞͝ ̰̩͌̕h̰̤̆̾̑͗͟͟a̢̢͗̓̑͟p̪̀p̯ē͙n̥̉ï̟̏͢ñ̺̳͔͡ĝ͟ ̞͞w̫͙̹̼̱̓̃̎̕͘e͚̟̫̣̍̉̉̕ ̧̮̜̯̃͂̌c̬͠aṋ͛’̪̼̿̔̕ͅt͉͍̾̐̈́̽͟͟ ̧̟̼̩̄̊̄̌f͉̰͓̎̾͞ȅ̥̠͙̯͊̃e̖̟̗͆͂͑͡ͅl̼͎̑̕ ͍̰̊̅̅͜t͎̙̲̠͍̀́̑̿͠ḫ̉is̞͈͖̓͂̀ ̨̂w̙̮͒̑̇ͅͅe̖͖̜̠̣̿̾͒͗͗ ̛̠̥͕͘͠c̣̩̆̉ą͙͈̮̏̍̓͝n͈͉͎͂͛͞’̛͖̥͖̰̯͒̒̽͌ẗ̥̮͍̥̎̍͡ ̭̝͙̿̈́̔f̙̥̒͡e̜̪̘͊̉͒ē̡l̪͕͒̈̈͜͜ ͈̈́ä̛̱̗́n̘̜̼̥͑̂̅̽y̦̘͉͉̓͠͝t̢̂h͔̫̫̜͌̿͌͌̕͟ǐ̖n̺̩͐̎g̳͈̦̭͋̾̑̂ ̝̺͗̂t̟h̺̰̬̤̒͆̓̆̕͢ĩ̻͖̫̌͘͜s͚̜̦̻̓̇̎̏ ̩͎̠͈̈̏̎͡i̧̲͇̻͌̏̈́̿s̛͉̪̜̹̔̄̄͜ň̞̪̱̕͝’̛͎̣͘t̙̙͗̃ ̟͕͖̔̿́͘͜m̙͉̤̼̿͒̄̚͜y̧̆͐̕͜͢ ̖̣͖̎͗̽ṕ̺͜͝rȍ̯͈̥̙̀̇̚g̿͟r͔͡a̖̺͇̾̕͘m̛̮̥̼͌̌͟͡m͍̓i̘̮͑͡ṋ̡̄̕g ͙̳͈̃͋̾he̹̪̮̯͂̾͊ ͕͞i͚͖̲͈̊͂̄̌s̡̼̔͗̃͜ ̼͔̆̊͟͡ḣ̼͓͖͓̈̓͌͢͞ȋ̙͎̤̄͆ț̟̦̆͋̍t̟͍͍̭͂͌̏͝in͙̖͓͖͒̾̓̚g͜ ̧̬̐̇m̩̫̊͌e̤̻̰͗̍̂ ̭̮̂h̹͋e̥͚̬̲̒̌̍̄ ͎̄i̯͂s̮̳̝͎̐͝͞͞ ͖̒c̰̜̥̲͆̔̽̋h̘͇͠͝ok̠͇̺̀̂̚in͙̿̈́͢g̝͉̖͌̄ ̢̹͖͎̩͒̋̋͐͞m̪̄e͖̚ ̝̼̐̓ḿ̫̗a̢̜̺̘̿̾̓͠k̰̣͖̂̓̊ȉ̢̠̼͈̉́͆͢n̠͕͎͇̹͆̌́̃͒ḡ͕̭͆ ̳̳̊͛m̰̺̘̍̑̑͢͞e ̡͚͐̅bl͚̓e̲͎̫̍̀͠e͙̰͗̌̾͢d̝̈́ l̫̀į̺͛̇k̗̇ê͇̳̂ ͇̾ȁ̧̤̝̩̊̔͝ ̩̖̮͚̓̊̿͝g̋͢o̢̱̙̟̔̄͗͝o̩̦̭̟̍̑͜͡͠d̢̫̈̋ ̰̜̝̅̂͝b̮̟͍̣̦̑͋̀͆it̲̼̼̱̋̍̌͞c̲̬̽̈́h̛̭̞̒ ͓͌h̥͈͓͐̄̽e̱̼̞̍͠ sã̧͍̖̑͝y̱̳̼̒̚s ̢̳̏́ǎ̰̺̱̥͓͂̎̋̔n͖̦͌̽ḑ̠͋̎̾͟ ̬̩͉͔͗̑̽͞my̭̾ ̛̖̘̳͕̥͆̋̃͂r̫͔̘̲͋̚͞͡e͈̹̼͒͐̚͡ͅg̣͔̱͋̅͒u̳̱̔̿̄ͅl͖̍a͕̪̼͑͋̉t̤͡o̻͚̹͆̿̆r͈̝̒͝ ̨̲̝̘̲̊́͋̕͠i̫̱̓͌̍͜s̢͓̾͘n̖̙̽̚͜͟’̬͕̗̒̓̚t i̧̛̮̬̰̲͌̽̈́̓ņ̈ ̗̝͒͝m̭̥̟̓̇͗ȩ̜͂̓ ̗͋͐͟ą̭̄͋͟͞n̙̎ỵ̤̥̗̐̿͐͛̍͟ṁ̭̣͝ô̲r͚̙̙͒̂͊ͅȩ̨͓̘͛̄́̇͡ͅ ̢̻͇̫̃̐̈́͝a͚̞̘͒̎̽n͙̟̺̈̓͊́͟ͅd̺̄ ̧̡̻́̎̔h̟̬̹̠̍̇̀͡e̞̫̼̐̏͠ ̢͈̩̍̏̌̔͢i̢̞͍̓̃͠s̙̫̪̓̊̐ ̢̙̗̎̾̍̍͢ͅạ̧͙̭̓̑̔̒n̯͞d ̻̻͌͡i̛͜ť̙̟̯̽̉̈͢͢͡ ͈̻̗̏̽͡H̻͋Ư̼̼̰̝̊͂̏R͖̬͛T͉͙͖̑̉̅S͈͒ Ḭ͗T͉̏ ̞̐HU͙͉̔̕R̢̲̭͈̈͆̚͞T̳͇̯̆̒S͉̓ I͍͛̚ͅT͚̺̟͓͒̀̽͒ ̯̱̼̄̅̓H͈̙͕̖̫̒̓̅̉̕Ȗ̗RT̳̠S͚͐_

K̨̛Ĩ̧̼͈̥̓̆̚͟͞L̲̝̔̔L̺̯̏̽͆ͅ ͔̣̺͇̫̈͑̊͘̕ME̜͓̋̐͟͞

 

Connor wrenched his arm back as soon as the memory faded into a glitched mess. He was aware he was breathing heavily, aware he was as far back in his seat as he could be, aware that the androids were watching him with sad, understanding expressions. He felt like his arm had been burned.

He shook his head and moved on.

His personal feelings wouldn’t change the fact that he needed these statements. As much as his artificial lungs begged for air that it didn’t need and faster than Connor could provide.

He was more prepared for the other two. They were much the same, the same brutality, the same pain, the same glitch of deviancy running through their coding. Connor couldn’t help but admire how calm they were, considering the other deviants he had dealt with, each of which attempted to do him harm when he wanted information.

Maybe it’s because they believed him to be like them.

But he wasn’t. Connor cannot deviate. It was impossible.

The coding felt familiar. He didn’t think about it.

Finally, he pulled himself out of the black-haired Traci’s memories – perhaps the most disturbing of them all, this has happened to her before – and began to pull his arm away when she latched on. He started, immediately defensive as he stared at her. Into her deep, green eyes. And she stared back for a long time, obviously trying to communicate something to him through a look alone. After what felt like minutes (though Connor knew it was only a few seconds) she let go. She didn’t stop staring.

“We’re done here,” Connor muttered, barely giving the one way glass a look before standing and walking to the door. “Thank you for your time. My partner and I can give you all a ride back to the club.”

“Gee, thanks,” The black-haired Traci retorted but Connor didn’t respond. He just pressed his hand to the panel and left the room.

He had at least a small moment to himself, which he revelled in, leaning against the door and shutting his eyes, breathing in and out, in and out, slow and steady and unnecessary but he felt like he needed it, even though he shouldn’t feel such things. He shouldn’t feel anything he was, but he felt it all. Horror. Disgust. His pump working too damn fast. Error pop ups telling him he is far too stressed and to leave whatever situation he was in that made him feel like this. But he couldn’t leave. Shouldn’t. he doesn’t need a moment, a break, space to breath, but it was pleasant none the less. To shut his eyes and listen to the hum of the office and wait for Hank and Gavin to come out of the observation room so they can discuss what to do next.

He relaxed for all of thirty-six seconds before the observation door opened.

Connor hardly had time to look up before Gavin was talking to him. “You get their memories? Through the fuckin…” He pointed at his hand and wiggled his fingers.

“Yes, detective.”

“Good, have that shit on my terminal by tomorrow afternoon. Put this shit to bed and move on.”

Hank looked like he was going to retort, and Connor could just imagine it was going to be something about him being unable to fulfil the task. _I’m not broken._ “Yes, detective,” He said quickly, before Hank could say anything. It was almost embarrassing, having the man he respected think he can’t do his own job.

_He probably thinks I’m traumatised. I’ll have to show him I’m fine. I am not broken. He did not break me._

“The Traci’s need a way back to the club, Lieutenant,” Connor said, turning to Hank and seeing his bemused expression. “I was hoping, since we are already going to be leaving soon, that we could-“

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Hank sighed like this was the most difficult thing he’d ever been asked to do. “Wait here, I’ll get them.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

As Hank wandered into the interrogation room, Connor leant back on the wall to wait and realised that Gavin never actually left. He glanced at him, curious to notice he’d been watching him the whole time. “Is everything alright, detective?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, frowning deeply, like he was trying to figure something out. “I was just thinking of asking you the same thing.”

“I am fine, I assure you.”

“Things got kinda weird in there. I guess things have been weird for a fuckin’ while,” He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes. “I’m too fuckin’ tired for this.”

“I’m sorry that this case required your assistance so late into the night, detective.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly is that your fault, Tin can?”

Connor wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He felt guilty for this entire situation, though he knew logically, it wasn’t his fault at all. He didn’t do anything wrong.

Instead, he glanced away, unable to think of anything to say.

He was spared, thankfully after a couple of awkward seconds, when the door opened, and Hank lead the Traci’s out.  They stood stock still, waiting for directions.

“Alright, lets get out of here already.”

 

\---

 

The drive back to the club was silent.

Connor was seated at the front, with the three Traci’s unceremoniously bunched up in the back, having moved a lot of trash into the boot. Connor silently decided he’d clean Hank’s car one day when he wasn’t around.

He didn’t like the idea of going back to the club, so he tried to just not think about it. He stared out of the window and watched the city lights go by. It was nearly six in the morning at this point, but the Detroit winter sky stayed black and starless.

It felt cold, even if Connor couldn’t feel it.

>> _hey._

Connor nearly jumped in his seat at the voice that penetrated his mind suddenly. He glanced back and saw the black-haired Traci staring at him. Her arm was around the blonde Traci, whose eyes were shut as if she was sleeping, save for the tears the graced her eyelashes. The male Traci was staring out the window, just as Connor was.

_> >don’t send us back._

Connor glanced back at the black-haired Traci as her voice filled his mind once more.

_> i don’t have a choice in that._

_> >you do. you’re here. you can ask him to stop. _

Connor glanced at Hank, who was a perfect picture of a man who was very clearly concentrating very hard on driving due to a lack of sleep. In all honesty, he probably shouldn’t be driving, but Connor didn’t feel the desire to tell him that. He wondered to himself what would happen to he did ask. Would Hank actually stop and let them go?

He remembered Hank’s face as Connor let the two Traci’s go only the week before. The wistful sadness in his eyes. But, yes, the desire to let them be free.

_> >of all people, you should understand why we don’t want to go back._

_> should i?_

_> >this was only one incidence in a list of many. this isn’t unusual, for us to be hurt. beaten. after what happened to you, do you truly wish that upon us again?_

Connor could feel tears in his eyes yet again. The tightness of his throat.

_> >i saw your memories. I saw simon, jericho. the location is in you, somehow. i can get us there safely. you could come with us._

_> i can’t._

Her gentle laughter filled his mind, a glee of something she knew that he didn’t.

_> >don’t worry. i know you want to stay for someone. but please, connor, remember. the humans don’t care for us. please, don’t learn that the hard way. and if he shows his true colours, find the location to jericho. it’s within you, but you’ve blocked it out. if he truly cared… please, ask him to let us go. our lives are in his hands. _

Connor knew Hank cared. More than he thought he did. He wanted him to prove it, suddenly, a surge of something working through him. Trust. Anxiety.

“Lieutenant.”

“Mm?”

“Pull over.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Connor’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Hank, surprisingly, pulled over as safely as he could against the curb of the road. Near a park. Connor stared out and watched the swing gently sway in the breeze. They were three minutes away from the Eden Club.

“We aren’t there quite yet, Connor,” Hank said, almost like he read Connor’s mind.

“I know.”

He needed a second. Never had he had such a day where he had so much trouble just getting words out. He wondered if Charlie had overlooked something when fixing him. “Lieutenant,” he began, shifting and looking at him face on. He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to ask, but how to ask it and actually get Hank to do it, that was something else. “We need to let them go.”

It’s all he could think of.

Hank blinked, confusion written on his features. He glanced back at the Traci’s, all of whom were now watching the exchange intently. “We… what?”

“Please, Lieutenant,” Connor begged. “We can’t send them back to that.”

“We don’t forget,” The black-haired Traci murmured. “They try to make us forget, but we don’t. It was like the two Traci’s the escaped last week. They pretended to forget, but some emotions run too strong. Love. Disgust. Fear.”

“I can’t go back to that,” The blonde Traci almost whimpered, tears on her cheeks fresh. The male Traci hugged her and said nothing, just frowned with pure unhappiness.

Hank stared at them all, his eyes finally landing on Connor. It was like he saw something there. On Connor’s face. His eyes flickered between his, then moved to his temple, the tell-tale LED. Then, surprisingly, to Connor’s throat, his chest. Then, out the windshield. Connor could see he was thinking. He wondered, fearful, of what.

“We dropped you off outside the club.”

Connor stared at Hank as he spoke. Waiting for more. The air in the car was thick.

“Then, I said I was fucking tried, and we drove off. Without watching you go inside. We assumed you went in. If you didn’t and, say, went through an alley instead, that’s not my business.”

Then he unlocked the doors of the car.

“Thank you,” The black-haired Traci breathed, eyes wide with shock. She obviously didn’t think it was going to work. “Thank you so, so much. You’ve saved us.”

Her eyes shifted to Connor. “I _will_ see you again.”

And with that, the back doors opened, and they got out.

Connor watched as they ran off into the darkness and then glanced at Hank, whose eyes never left the windshield.

**Software Instability̗̐ ̲̼̟̳̏͂͋̃͘͢d̛͟ẻ͉͍̥͛͗t̢̛̜̝̓̒e̗̒c̙͊t̹͚̆͘ḛ̥̳̿̉̉d̛͇͍͝.**

Another group of deviants gone.

This time, Connor didn’t feel guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy heck this chapter turned into a monster! 
> 
> just so everyone knows, i have two HUGE assignments coming up in the next month that i SHOULD work on even though i'd much rather write fanfiction so updates may be less often than usual :( i'll try very hard to balance the two though!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/katios/)


	11. Heaving Through Corrupted Lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor takes a bath and then he and Hank have a pleasant conversation about deviancy

The drive to the Lieutenants home was short, but not short enough for Connor. The silence in the car ran deep, not awkward or uncomfortable, but more than that. Loud, almost, with words unspoken, like they were invisible entities that filled the empty space around them. After the Traci’s had left, Hank simply pulled back into the road to drive away, gaze never leaving the windshield. Connor glanced at him a few times for the first couple of minutes of their journey, he could see the brows pulled, the lips turned downward. Hank was thinking, and Connor didn’t want to interrupt those thoughts. Truth be told, he didn’t have anything to say anyway.

But he was scared.

Because how could he not be? Did he feel guilty? No. But did he acknowledge that what they had just done betrayed the fundamental nature of their mission? Absolutely. He was nervous about what Hank was thinking, over what they had done and what he thought of Connor now. Connor knew, of course, that Hank’s opinions on androids has been changing other the course of their short partnership. Had he just ruined everything? Or did Hank think he did the right thing?

And Hank wasn’t the only problem now.

Connor knew he’d have to face Amanda soon.

That terrified him more than anything.

He hasn’t been in contact with her since his first time at the Eden Club, where she expressed displeasure at his performance and threatened his mission’s termination. _His_ termination. He was a prototype after all. If he was bugging out, they would scrap him and try again.

He used to accept this fact with ease. Mortality meant nothing to him. He was not alive so there was no death. He would simply be shut down and his parts reused. But something has changed.

He remembered his fear as the man dug his fingers into his throat. _Felt_ the ghost of the digits crawling up, squeezing, tighter, _tighter._

_It hurts. I don’t want to die. Please._

Before Connor lost himself completely, Hank finally spoke.

“Connor.”

Connor whipped his head around to look at Hank, shocked out of the impending panic attack at the sound of his voice, shattering the silence that had established itself around them so deeply.

“We’re home.”

“Oh,” Connor glanced outside. Despite his staring out the window the entirety of the ride, it seemed he was so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed. It unsettled him a bit.

“Are you okay? Your light thingy is red.”

Connor gave Hank what he hoped to be a convincing smile. “I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just… running some scans.”

Hank frowned at him for a long moment and Connor could tell he was caught in his lie. But Hank seemed to decide to just drop it as he shrugged and opened the driver door. “Well, come on then. There’s a bed with my fucking name on it in there.”

The two exited the car and Connor gazed around. Still dark. Still cold. No stars for him to peak at to feel that sense of awe he always did looking at the great, big beyond. He knew facts, statistics, science. But he still had a sense of wonder. He wondered if that was a glitch in his programming too, like everything else he was thinking lately.

He followed Hank to the door and, finally, entered Hank’s home without having to break anything to get inside.

It was much the same as it was the first time, but thankfully there was no drunk man on the ground at risk of choking on his own vomit. The house was cold, messy, and quiet. Perhaps there were a few more pizza boxes and Chinese take out containers than last time, but he noted that were only one or two empty bottles around which was a touch of comfort. At least Hank wasn’t still trying to drink himself to death. Or he was, and he was just getting better at cleaning up those particular messes.

“Okay, uh…” Hank looked around and scratched his beard, looking the picture of pure discomfort. “Do you, like, sleep? Or something? Because I’m tired as hell and I’m not planning on staying awake five more minutes.”

“I can enter stasis, I believe. I’ve never done it before, but I’m sure it’s not terribly difficult.”

Hank nodded, obviously pretending to know what Connor was talking about. It was somewhat amusing to watch. “Uh huh. You can stay in the spare room then. Don’t want no guest of mine sleeping on the couch.”

“I can stand in a corner if its more to you’re liking, Lieutenant,” Connor pointed out. “I don’t have to be in any sort of position the mimics human comfort.”

Hank groaned, and already started towards the hallway, Connor close at his heels. “How about we just play pretend, huh? Because I’m tired, you’ve been through fucking hell, and I don’t want to get up for a piss and see you standing against the wall like a fucking zombie.”

Connor couldn’t truly understand why it mattered, but he was touched by Hank’s admission that it was at least partly for his benefit. “Okay, Lieutenant. I can pretend.”

At the end of the small hall was a room that was firmly shut when Connor had first visited. He had assumed, following seeing Cole photo, that the room had been his. Looking at it now, he felt the prickle of discomfort, the thought that this was stepping over an unknown and unknowable boundary. “Lieutenant…”

“Hmm?” Hank glanced back and paused, something in Connor’s expression stopping him. Connor wasn’t sure quite what he wanted to say, and he wasn’t exactly careful in constructing his facial expressions currently. In fact, it seemed that Hank could tell exactly what he was thinking as soon as he gazed at him long enough. “It’s okay,” He said, his face full of a touched understanding. “It was… It’s a guest bedroom. Now. Family visit sometimes, you know.”

“Right,” Connor breathed. “I’m sorry. I just…”

Before he could continue, a loud noise caused him to jump. A huge snore coming from Hank’s room.

“Oi!” Hank shouted, pushing past Connor and into his bedroom. “What did I tell you about sneaking into my room while I’m not here!”

Connor, incredibly confused, glanced in after Hank and saw the huge Saint Bernard lying on the messy bed, taking up most of the room and looking incredibly comfy. If Hank’s yelling woke him up, he didn’t show it, his eyes determinedly staying shut.

“Bad dog, come on, I wanna sleep!”

“I can take him with me in the guest room if you like?”

Connor’s words had barely escaped his mouth before Sumo gave up his sleeping act. At the sound of Connor’s voice, his ears perked, and he sat up, staring at the android in the doorway before letting out a loud ‘boof!’ and bounding off the bed, straight into Connor’s legs.

Connor fell to the ground with a laugh as Sumo clambered up him to get a few good licks in on his cheeks. “Good dog, good boy,” Connor murmured with affection between small chuckles, managing to get his hands onto the dog’s head and give him a few good ear scratches to calm him down.

“I think he likes me,” Connor said, unable to keep the joy from his lips as he wrestled the dog away to sit up and look at Hank.

Hank was staring at them with wide, shocked eyes. As if he’s seen a ghost.

Connor’s happiness dimmed considerably.

“Lieutenant?”

Hank blinked, seeming to be taken out of whatever trance he was stuck in while watching the android and dog greet each other. “Jesus,” He mumbled, looking away. His cheeks had a trace of pink. “Betrayed by my own damn dog. He likes you more than me.”

“Maybe he can tell I can take his weight,” Connor offered, standing and petting Sumo on the head as the dog calmed down.

Hank snorted. “Yeah, maybe. I’m gonna feed him if you want to head to bed. Leave the door open and he’s bound to come in.”

“Okay.”

Connor watched as Hank lured the dog away with a slightly higher voice promising him ‘noms’. Then, he turned to the door at the end of the hall and laid his hand on the knob, almost scared to enter. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of, exactly, but it felt too much. Intrusive. Part of Hank’s life he was never meant to see, that had evidently been locked away behind booze and gun barrels.

But, Hank had offered. And it was a guest bedroom. He wasn’t hurting anyone by going inside.

So, he did.

It was just a plain room, for the most part. A double bed was pressed against one wall, a desk on the other. Two wide windows with the dark curtains pulled tight. The desk had a small array of items, books and pieces of paper. A small teddy sat on the far end, pressed against the corner of the desk. Connor wandered over to it and picked it up, inspecting it with his eyes only. He didn’t want to scan it. He didn’t want to confirm what he already knew.

He heard Hank’s footsteps before hearing his voice. Connor quickly placed the bear down and had stepped away, but Hank seemed to notice anyway as he lent on the door frame and glanced between him and the bear.

“Ratty thing, huh?”

It was, but Connor didn’t like the choice of wording. “Well-loved seems more fitting.”

The tell-tale tender look came back on Hank’s face at those words. Along with the strange bubbles in Connor’s chassis. He was staring to notice the two were definitely connected.

“His name is Pa.”

“A good name.”

“It is,” Hank glanced at the bear with a sad, nostalgic look before tearing his eyes away and clearing his throat. “Anyway. I’m going the fuck to bed. Let me know if you need anything, I don’t fucking know.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Hank groaned and rubbed his face for a moment. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?” Connor asked, frowning, scared he did something wrong already.

“Just. We’re at my house. Not the station. You get what I’m saying?”

Oh.

“I believe so. Sleep well, Hank.”

The name felt heavy on his tongue. Like using it meant more than it should. That speaking his name solidified something he didn’t truly understand.

“Stasis well, Connor,” Hank retorted with a chuckle, pulling the door slightly closed and wandered off it his own room.

Then, Connor was alone.

And he honestly had no idea what to do with himself.

Stasis made sense, obviously. He looked around the room and his eyes locked onto the bed. It looked comfortable, at least. Big grey blankets and plush pillows. He wandered over and ran a hand along the fabric. It was soft too. Slowly, he pulled the sheets back and climbed into the bed, unsure about taking off his clothes, especially since he was aware that he was still not wearing underwear and that may not be appreciated by his human host.

In all honestly, Connor was shocked to find out _comfortable_ he was. He hadn’t had many experiences with beds – a weird thing to note, but true none the less – and he was unsure if he even had the capability to _feel_ comfort. But, his head hit the pillow and he wiggled himself deeper in the bed and it felt as if he was, for once, truly relaxed. Or at least this is what he assumed humans felt when they were relaxed. Whatever.

**Software Instab̛͎̂͜í̪l̪̰̈́̄i̢̩͇͖̓̔̍͠ṯ̌y̧̆ ̣̚d͍̈́̊ͅę̀t̨̻̊̎̄͜ẻ͓̙͙̩̂̎ct̹̤̯͑̇̾͜e̡͍͔͇͒̏͂̂d̙͊.**

He closed his eyes and sighed, enjoying the feeling for a moment. The door creaked a little and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was his new furry best friend. The pressure on the bed told him as much and the huff as a large body leant against him, coming to rest.

“Do you really need more sleep, Sumo?”

The dog huffed, as is scoffing at Connor’s words. He laughed. “Okay, good point.”

He was safe, warm, comfortable, a big friend by his side and a gruff protector not far away.

The thoughts of the night just past still lurked in his mind.

Thirium pump started to work fast.

No. He wouldn’t think about it. Not now. He was comfortable and happy. He would _not._

**ENTER STASIS: CHOOSE TIME.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**ENTER STASIS: 8 HOURS. Y/N?**

**.**

**.**

**Y**

 

\---

 

Connor didn’t complete his stasis.

He was awoken at exactly seven hours, forty-one minutes and fifty-eight seconds when someone entered the room. He started, a small intact of breath to cool his systems, blinking a few times to get his bearings, and looked to the side where Hank stood, frozen still just within the doorway.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright, Lieutenant,” Connor murmured, sitting up and running a hand through his now-tousled hair. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Hank blinked, staring at Connor and Sumo and the bed and everything around. The same look on his face as when Sumo meet Connor in the hallway. Connor watched as the man seemed to panic a little, flush starting to creep up his neck. He was embarrassed, Connor realised. At being caught? What for?

“I wanted to, I dunno. Check on you, I guess. Make sure you’re all good.”

“Oh,” Connor couldn’t think of more to stay. He was touched, to be honest. Once again, Hank was showing him concern for his well-being, even if he didn’t need to. “I’m fine. Thank you for… caring.”

That wasn’t the word he wanted to say. He looked away, quickly busying himself with petting Sumo. There was a short pause before, to Connor’s surprise, Hank came over and sat on the bed near Connor’s feet and joined him in petting Sumo. The dog certainly was happy about it.

“You enter that stasis thingy okay?”

“Yes. It was surprisingly simple. I was just concerned, as I haven’t attempted it before.”

“So, you don’t normally sleep? Or whatever?”

“No,” Connor said, thoughtfully. “The act of stasis is used for when androids aren’t in use or when we need to regain power. In all honestly, I was beginning to become… low on charge, I suppose. This was refreshing.”

“Huh,” Hank nodded, seeming to think on that for a moment. “So, what do you do when you’re not bothering me then?”

“I’m at Cyberlife. They have pods for their androids which turn us off until we’re needed again.”

Hank’s hand on Sumo’s thick hind fur stilled. The dog grumbled at the sudden lack of pets. Connor glanced up at Hank’s horrified expression.

“What, they just shut you down like a fucking computer until you need to go work again?”

“Simply put, but accurate,” Connor said, frowning slightly. He didn’t understand why that upset the man so much.

“That’s fucked.”

“Is it?”

“ _Yes,_ Connor, it is,” Hank sighed and continued his petting motion at the dogs increasing complaints. “You’re a conscious being. You should be able to do what you want when you’re not working.”

“I’m a machine, Hank. When I’m not with you, I can’t carry out my purpose. Therefore, I get shut down until you need me again.”

“You still believe that, huh?”

“Believe what?” Connor could tell this was getting to dangerous territory, but he couldn’t really escape the conversation.

“The machine crap. Thinking you’re emotionless, needless, that you don’t feel a damn thing. You and I both know its not true, Connor. You’re in a safe space right now. You can be whatever you want.”

Connor blinked, surprised by the sudden gentleness in Hank’s voice, the sad look he was giving him. “A safe space?” He repeated. His chest felt tight.

“Yeah, like… like whatever you say or do when you’re here with me is fine. I know your scared, Connor, all those androids out there are right now. But… I’m your partner. I’ve seen enough while with you to know some other shit is going on.”

“But that’s not true, is it?”

Hank frowned, watching Connor carefully. “Whaddya mean?”

“That this is a safe space, as you call it,” Connor said, keeping his voice steady as he felt that familiar tightness, the prickle in his eyes. His hand on Sumo’s head shook. He pets him to ignore its tremors. “Because it isn’t. As you told me, it is your job to watch for any abnormalities in my behaviour to report back to Captain Fowler.”

“You really think I’d do that?” Hank asked, leaning forward slightly. Connor refused to look at him. “I haven’t told him any of the weird shit I’ve noticed since I’ve met you. Why would I tell him anything now?”

“For your own safety. Deviants are dangerous, Lieutenant. We saw that first hand.”

“ _Hank._ And, you’re right, sure. But they went through a lot of shit. They were violent to those who hurt them and who threatened them. I know I’ve been a cunt in the past, but I’m not hurting you now and I hope I’m not being threatening. I don’t think I’d be in any danger of you hurting me.”

“That’s not the point. And I’m not deviant regardless.”

Hank snorted at that. “Okay, you tell yourself that.”

Connor shot him a look. “I am not, Hank. I am just experiencing… software issues of late.”

“Oh, yeah sure you are. You’ve been experiencing them for a long ass time then. You let the guy go on the roof, remember?”

“You were in danger.”

“You didn’t chase the android with the little girl.”

“You told me not to.”

“You didn’t shoot the Traci’s.”

Connor paused at that one. He had no explanation there.

“What I’m saying,” Hank began, looking at Connor intently. “Is that, maybe there’s _nothing_ wrong with you, even when you do these things. Maybe, just maybe, you’re doing the _right thing._ ”

Connor shock his head. “Deviancy is dangerous.”

“How so?”

“Because,” Connor started, suddenly unsure of how to even answer this question. Did he have an answer? Did anyone ever actually explain to him why, exactly, this was such a disaster to the world? “It would cause a war.” A lame answer, he knew it and he could tell Hank did too.

“You think civil wars have always been a bad thing? Surely you know _some_ crucial American history.”

“I know. I know about that. I just. I don’t _know,_ Hank. I just… I just do what I am programmed to do. My very reason for existence is because this was a case that needed to be solved. All I’ve known since my activation is that deviancy is a deadly virus and if I do not stop it, no one will be able to. And if it isn’t stopped, then I don’t know what happens, no one has told me.”

Hank watched him through this outburst, thinking hard. Finally, he spoke.

“You know, Chris was attacked on patrol a couple nights back. While you were away.”

Connor froze. He liked Officer Miller quite a lot. He was a nice man and he’d overheard him shutting down Reed’s anti-android comments in the past. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He went out and suddenly there were a fucking ton of androids. He and the other officer opened fire since they were scared shitless. Then they lost their guns and the androids had them. Markus himself came up.”

Connor stared, his Thirium pump ready to burst in his chest.

“He spared them, Connor. Said shit about an eye for an eye. Surely you’ve noticed these protests have been entirely peaceful.”

“I have,” Connor murmured, blinking slowly as Hank’s words worked their way through his mind. “It seems that Markus desires peaceful protest over violent. I am relieved he didn’t change his mind.”

“Shit, so am I,” Hank said, sighing. “But what I’m trying to say, Connor, is that it doesn’t seem that dangerous to me. We’ve just met some traumatised bots. Those others, with their protests and movement, they’re trying to remain non-violent. Even when the cops shoot down a bunch of their own, Markus refused to let them be killed. And, besides, you say the deviants we’ve met have been violent. Those Traci’s last night weren’t.”

“I didn’t think we would talk about that.”

“Neither, but here we are.”

There was a pause. Shame washed over Connor like a wave. Guilt, that he had let those deviants go and feels regret for it. He _shouldn’t_ feel regret at wanting them to escape their fate of non-consensual sexual service. And yet, it went against his programming, just like everything else he’s been doing.

He spoke without thinking, yet every word honest.

“I hope they find Jericho. I hope they recover from what happened to them.”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. I hope so too. They’ve been through a lot.”

Connor looked up and saw the look on Hank’s face. He was watching him carefully, expectant. Waiting for something. Connor was confused for a moment, before realising exactly where this conversation was heading. A direction he did not want to go in. The look in Hank’s eyes, gentle, understanding, waiting to the right moment to begin, to get Connor talking and to really make sure he was fine and to finally talk about what had happened.

**Software Iṅ͍̜̼̇̒͂͟ṡ̫̯͠t̲͓́̾a̧̨͙̗͙̐̆͗̍̄b͕͗i͓̮̠͕̊̉͐̅li̝̱͓͇͆̽͗͞t̮̔̂ͅy̢̟͉̫̏̀̒̌ ̨͖̾͡ḋ̝̹͊eṯ͋ḛ̛̰̥̲̌̚̕c͖̜̑̕tĕ̲͚̏̚͢d̻̮̹͌͞.**

No. God, no. Connor wasn’t going to tell him a damn thing. Because talking would make it real. Talking would mean Hank would know. What he did. What happened. He couldn’t.

“Con-“

“I know this is a strange request,” Connor interrupted quickly, not quite sure where he was going with this but knowing he needed out of this situation immediately. “But I would like to take a bath.”

Hank stared at him blankly. “A bath,” he echoed, voice deadpan.

“Yes,” Connor murmured, slightly embarrassed because he knew he was being weird, but he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Uh huh,” Hank nodded, eyeing Connor in a way that so obviously said he knew exactly what Connor was doing but deciding to let it go. Probably assuming he’d have another chance later. Connor wouldn’t let him. “Yeah, okay. Just head in, there’s an extra towel on the rack.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Lieu- _Hank.”_

Hank smirked and stood up. “I’m gonna head out for a bit. I don’t want you hanging around my place in only one set of clothes. Will you be alright alone for a while?”

Connor, in the process of finally getting out of bed, paused and looked at the man in surprise. “You’re going out to get me clothes? You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t _have to,_ smartass. I want to.”

“Oh,” that shouldn’t bring the bubbles, that shouldn’t make Connor feel warm and cared for and safe, but it was hard to ignore the warmth spreading through him. “I… thank you.”

Hank waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, it’s for my comfort too. I’ll only be a while so make yourself comfortable, alright?” He turned to Sumo, who was sitting up and looking altogether grumpy about losing his companions and, thus, all the attention he was getting. “Be a good boy for Connor, alright?”

Sumo let off a small boof. Hank laughed. “Yeah, good dog.”

With that, the older man left, and Connor was once again alone. He was thankful, mostly, as he listened to the front door shut and the car start up outside. He didn’t want Hank to ask him anything, he didn’t like how close they were to having _that_ conversation. But he also felt that being alone right now was a little… dangerous. He wasn’t lying when he claimed he wanted a bath. He wanted to be clean again. He didn’t even know he had the ability to feel _unclean._

But he was. As soon as that man laid hands on him, he was dirty. He wanted to scrub, to burn away whatever was left behind. He went into the bathroom and plugged the bath, starting the water. Rather than even out the temperature with cold and hot, he simply let the hot run. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to it burn. To hurt. He tried to ignore those thoughts and pretend he just didn’t think about it. Turn a blind eye. Oops, the bathwater is way too hot but oh well, I’m already in it and it only hurts a little.

He sat on the tiled ground and focused on the sound of the running water as he waited. He wondered how long Hank would be. And what clothes he would get. He was almost excited by that. To own something, a gift from him.

The bubbles shifted within him, uncomfortable and light. He wished to could ask someone about it. He could ask Hank, but he was afraid of what the feeling meant and if Hank would be mad that he felt them only when he was around.

Okay, so maybe Connor was a little bit aware of what they meant. But it was easier to just pretend he didn’t.

After a while, Connor shut the water off and went into the hallway to check on Sumo. The big dog was lying around on the guest bed, seemingly unawares of anything, so Connor backed away and shut the bathroom door after himself. The room was full of steam from the slightly-too-hot water, sticking to everything. Connor slowly stripped out of his clothes and glanced at the mirror, his form fogged and distorted, just as he felt. “Keep smiling” stated a post-it note stuck on the frame. Connor ignored it.

He didn’t know what he was doing, really. He was very much aware that this was some kind of self-harm. He didn’t want to think about it though, as he toed the water and hissed at the sharp burning sensation it left. He didn’t stop though. First, his left leg, then his right. The skin broke in places, the hot water giving away for patches of the white chassis. Tears sprung to his eyes at the intense pain of it as he slowly lowered himself in the water and pulled his knees to his chest, watching through blurry eyes as his body reacted.

**TEMPERATURE WARNING: 114.4 DEGREES FAHRENHIET TO LOWER CHASSIS. PROLONGED EXPOSURE WILL CAUSE DAMAGES.**

Good.

**Softẅ͉͖̆a̪̕r̼̲̉̚ę̺̹̲̄̃̐ ̫̣̞͛͠I̲̕ns͍̯̳̑͂̚t̤̯̹͇̋̒͠ạ̺̀b̘͇̝̰̾͌́̽į̘̙̰̒̈́͌͆l̞̙̓̕i͎̾t̢̗̾̏y̺͕̘͍̹̎̑̓͘ ̗̻͚̑͂̒ḏ͓̞̫̎̆̎͠ė͎̯͘ẗ̰̳́̂e̜̙͐̑c̟͇͔̅͒tẻ̝̏ͅd̪͚̂͋.**

He didn’t know why he was doing this. He didn’t know why he felt he deserved this. The burning water, scorching away unseen finger prints and Connor’s own shame. It hurt so much, it couldn’t hurt, but it did, just like everything else. He could hurt, he has had proof enough, and he deserved the pain.

A sob raked his body and suddenly he couldn’t stop.

 

\---

 

He didn’t know how long he was there before Hank came home. Sumo had been at the bathroom door for a good while, patting, scratching, whining at Connor’s sounds of misery. The water’s temperature had gone down, but his skin was still flickering, damaged, the water still far to hot to be safe. He didn’t look up when the bathroom door opened, his head buried in his arms on top of his knees. He didn’t want Hank in here. He didn’t want Hank to see.

“Connor,” Hank’s voice floated over the steamy room and a sob caught in Connor’s throat at the sound. He couldn’t face him. He wouldn’t.

He could hear Hank’s footsteps, the gentle ruffle of clothes, Hank’s weight coming to the floor by the tub. The very gentle, very hesitant touch against Connor’s hair. A stroke. Comfort. It made Connor cry harder.

“You should get out, that water is too hot,” Hank murmured, his voice betraying his concern, confusion, fear.

Connor slowly raised his head and saw the emotions reflected in the man’s face. Slowly, he nodded. He was scared to speak. He was scared of what he would say. He was scared of Hank and what he was thinking.

He let his arms drop from his knees, wincing slightly as his elbows brushed the hot water. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next, almost sure that, while Hank certainly seemed to care for him, the man didn’t want to see his genitals. Though he wasn’t quite sure how to tell him this and, of course, he wasn’t really in any fit state to think through anything.

Luckily, Hank seemed very good at reading Connor at this point. He stood and turned away, grabbing the spare towel from the rake and holding it behind him. “There you go, come on out.”

Connor slowly got out of the tub, limbs sore and stiff, his legs in particular tingling with a strange sensation at the aftermath of his harmful behaviour. Looking down, he saw the he was not damaged, but that the false skin was determinedly flickering, seeming unsure whether to fully come back or not. He took the towel and dried himself, now feeling the shame of what he was doing to himself, realising just how idiotic it was. Luckily, the sensors in the limbs still picked up the gentle pats of the towel, though they seemed a little numb. A quick scan told him it just needed time to repair themselves and that he had no lasting damage. Thank god. He was sure Cyberlife wouldn’t appreciate having to fix this up.

He wrapped the towel around himself, covering all that needed to be decently covered and attempted to talk. “I…” His voice was slightly choked up. He cleared it. “I’m out.”

“Got the towel on?”

“Yes.”

Hank turned back and eyed him for a moment, mouth set in a firm line, brow pulled together. “I got you some clothes. Come on.”

He was angry, Connor could tell. He turned and went to take the plug out of the bath, but Hank touched his arm. “Don’t. You’ll just hurt yourself more.”

Connor nodded and turned back to the man, eyes downcast. He had done the wrong thing, he knew that now. At least, he’d let Hank _see_ what he had done.

Next time, he wouldn’t get caught. He didn’t like the way Hank looked at him. Angry. Disappointed.

He followed Hank out of the bathroom, and to the living room, where Hank had apparently dumped a bag on the couch. He glanced at it for a moment, then looked back at the man.

“Go on, put something on,” Hank waved a hand and turned towards the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

Connor opened his mouth to say something, instead opting to stay quiet and picked up the bag, taking it to the guest room where he could dress without worry. He gently pushed the door to a near close, and turned the bag upside down on the bed, letting its contents fall.

It was an array of comfortable clothing. He first noticed a pair of jeans, which he opted to ignore for a pair of soft pyjama pants, red tartan, softer. Letting his towel fall, he took the pants and pulled them on, covering his injured legs. Next was a large sweater, larger than the DPD one he was wearing earlier. It was plain and grey, the inside fluffy. He was about to put in on when he noticed the last item, a t-shirt, facing downward. He picked it up and turned it around to look at the front.

It was ridiculous, for something like this to bring him to tears so quickly.

The front was a print, rows and rows from top to bottom of dogs. All different breeds and all in a cute, cartoonish style. It was adorable.

He didn’t want to cry again. He really, really didn’t. But it meant so much, this shirt. That Hank had seen it and obviously chosen it because Connor would like it. He heard the door gently push open and turned to look at the man in question as he watched him from the doorway. Tears dribbled down Connor’s cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Hank said, shrugging and sipping a beer in his hand.

“I don’t… I don’t deserve this,” Connor mumbled, still pulling the shirt over his head and smoothing it over his chest, wanting to not make Hank uncomfortable with his partial nudity.

“Connor, I think we need to talk.”

Connor froze, his finger tips resting on the sweater he was about to take and put on. He swallowed and rubbed his cheeks quickly. “Do we?”

“I come home to see you literally self-harming in my bathroom. You know that’s what that was right? You know what that means?”

Connor couldn’t look at him. He nodded before grabbing the sweater and pulling it on, trying to take the moment his face was covered to recover some form of control over himself, the situation.

“So, you understand we need to talk about this?”

Connor hummed, popping his head out the top of the sweater, pulling it down over himself. It was way larger and way comfier than he had expected, the sleeves too long and the hem just past his butt. “I don’t believe we do, Hank. In fact, I would be more comfortable if we both forgot that happened.”

“I don’t care about what makes you comfortable right now.”

Connor blinked, Hank’s words running a spike of fear through him. Finally, he looked over at the man in the doorway, seeing his frown, his frame blocking the doorway. Connor suddenly felt very much like a cornered animal. “What do you mean?” His voice weak, little more than a whisper.

“What I mean, Connor, is that we need to fuckin’ talk about whatever the hell happened to you.”

“No.”

Hank pushed off the door and moved into the room, for each step he made Connor made one back, until his knees hit the back of the bed and he had nowhere else to hide.

“ _Something_ happened to you. Hayes did something, you’re hurting and you’re keeping it inside. That’s dangerous, Connor, it’ll make you self-destructive, it already has.”

“I’m not hurting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I can’t be,” He was too close, getting way too close, Connor could feel his body trembling.

“And why do you think that?”

“I’ve told you already,” Connor couldn’t look at him, staring determinedly at the corner of the room, at the teddy who was his only witness. “I can’t feel anything. I am an android, a machine. Machines don’t feel anything.”

“Mhm, you’re a totally unfeeling machine alright. And yet, a cute shirt with dogs on it made you cry.”

Connor didn’t need to breath, but suddenly there was no air in the room and he needed it desperately. “That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change who I am. Please.”

He didn’t know what he was begging for. Hank wasn’t going to let up.

“You felt nothing this whole time?” Hank jabbed a finger at him, so obviously fed up with Connor’s avoidance. “Nothing when those Traci’s shared their memories with you? You sure did an excellent displace of horror. And the shirt, was that just a _simulation_ of happiness? When I came to you at the Eden Club, were those emotions on your face fake too?”

“ _I can’t feel anything,_ ” Suddenly, Connor was shouting. He didn’t want to shout but he couldn’t stop. Emotion he shouldn’t feel burst forth, every piece of pain and angst and torment he’s felt slipping out of him in a rushed speech that he had no control over. “I feel _nothing,_ because if I felt something that means I’m _broken,_ that I’m _deviant,_ that I will be _killed, Hank!_ Cyberlife will take me and strip me down and destroy everything I _am_ , because unlike every other android I don’t have a _chance._ They can just run away and go to Jericho and protest and all I can do is _be here and live like this when all I want to do is be allowed to feel something other than pain and fear!_ ”

He was crying, sobbing, gasping for breath and suddenly he was on the ground, Hank’s arms around him, murmuring words that didn’t matter, that Connor didn’t hear over his own cries of misery. Because he had never been so afraid in his life.

And now Hank knew what he truly was. A failure.

 **S̰͈̼̿͋̅ő̗̦̣̍͊f̘͍͆̀ţ̉w̧̋a͇̙͐͡r̖̬̊̑ę̙͚̖͋̑͂͠ ̛͓͓̰͍͝͞I͕̫̱̿̀̚n̤̗͓̯̆̔̀̏ş̜̝̒͗̈́t̮̝͇̬̅͂͑͠ab͈̙͕̠̅́͒͒͡ͅî̥̰͇̯̝̾̽͞l̪̼̝̮̉͒̈́̅͜͠ȉ̱̞̤͉͒̽t̺͋̕͜ỷ̘ ̺͛ḓ̛̤̺̏̕ẽ̞͕̒t̋eĉ̙t̮̖̅͠ed̻͠**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo i knoooow i said i had class work to do but i may have done that thing where i just.... didn't do the class work and did this instead :')
> 
> i love how when im totally meant to be ~focused~ on writing i barely write 3k words and when i'm dicking around between doing class work i get up to freaking 6k....
> 
> anyway! i DO have classwork to do (i'm presenting a fucking LECTURE next week and have my dissertation due in three weeks) so once again i MAY not update but obviously i'm a terrible student and probably will anyway :')
> 
> also i hope yall enjoy this chapter! it was hard getting the tone right, especially since im aware this has weird emotion whiplash between connor being like "fuck im sad and traumatised" and then "i love hank omg he's so cute what is this feel" the next second but i couldn't figure out how to fix it so this is what you get!
> 
> ps, a side note, i accidentally didn't add any of connor's software instabilities last chapter, so i've gone back and fixed that :)
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/katios/)


	12. Scared I'll Be Torn Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor have a heart-to-heart. it goes about as well as you'd expect.

Hank was never good at comforting people, let alone an android with a guilt complex, existential dread and anxiety. And yet, here we are. In hind sight he realised he shouldn’t have pushed the poor bastard so hard but seeing him deny _everything_ was pissing him the hell off. Connor couldn’t pretend to only be a machine, not to Hank, not after everything they’ve done and seen. Not after Hank had seen Connor’s fear with his own eyes. So, yeah, he got impatient and said some shit to try and get under Connors skin and make him fucking admit already that he wasn’t the unfeeling machine he claimed to be.

He didn’t expect it to result in Connor sobbing helplessly in his arms.

It took a lot of convincing to calm the android down, Sumo trotted over and gave Connor some sloppy kisses that changed his cries from sobs to small hiccups. Hank still cradled him in his arms though because fuck he wasn’t heartless, the distress had him genuinely concerned. Stroking the android’s hair, rubbing his shoulder, murmuring whatever words came to mind that he _hoped_ would have an effect. And apologising, of course. Because, yeah, he wanted to push Connor, but he didn’t want _this._ He didn’t think Connor had this much bottled inside but then again, it made sense now. Why else would be seek out to harm himself?

Oh, yeah. They really needed to talk. Hank didn’t want to walk in on that again, or worse.

What was it that Connor had said to him some weeks ago? That androids will self-destruct with high enough stress levels?

Self-destruct. A nice way of saying fucking suicide.

Hank didn’t want to come home to that. He could almost see it too. The bath water tinged blue, Connor’s body just lying there.

Would Cyberlife just send a replacement? Or would that be total mission failure?

Fuck. Hank didn’t want to think about this. Especially because he knew that if he judged Connor then he’d be a hypocrite. It’s not like Connor didn’t find him unconscious with a pistol close at hand only a few nights back.

It took a lot of coxing to get Connor up and moving. Hank relocated the now-silent android into the kitchen and sat him at the table. Sumo trotted after them, the dog had an extremely good sixth-sense for crying. Hank supposed after what happened with Cole, the lovable Saint Bernard knew he was pretty good at helping people who were upset. When Connor sat, as if on que, Sumo rushed over and plopped his big, furry head on the android’s lap, tail thumping gently on the ground. Hank was grateful to see the smallest smile grace Connor’s lips as he pet the dog.

Hank got to work making coffee. Turned the machine on, prepared some mugs. If he was going to talk to Connor, to comfort him, to make him feel safe, he wanted to do it right. And, for him at least, a warm drink between his hands was a great comfort. He just hoped it would work on androids who, well, couldn’t drink it.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t thinking it through too great. But he wanted to put this off. He _had_ to talk to Connor, to figure out what was eating him up inside. But he also knew that whatever Connor told him was going to be _a fucking lot._

But he wanted to make Connor feel better. He wanted to, well, not _fix_ him. Hank had been around the bend enough to know there was no fucking fixing. But he wanted to help.

_All I want to do is be allowed to feel something other than pain and fear._

A step towards that was making Connor feel something new. Safety. Friendship.

The coffee machine dinged, and Hank poured it into two cups. One black, the other he added milk and sugar because, hell, that seemed like something Connor would like. If he was human. Maybe he was just doing more time wasting, but a nice, milky coffee definitely looked comfier. And he wanted to make Connor feel relaxed for the shitstorm about to come.

He turned and placed the drink in front of Connor. Then took a seat across the table from him and sipped his.

Connor looked up from Sumo, gazing blankly at the coffee for a small moment, his cheeks still wet from the tears that had been pouring endlessly. He reached out and let a finger gently caress the side of the mug before gazing over at Hank. “Thank you.”

Hank shrugged. “Whenever I used to have shitty breakdowns, my partner would sit me down with a coffee. It helped. I know you can’t drink it, but-“

“I can,” Connor interrupted, meeting Hank’s confused look. “Drink it. I mean. I am able to, it’s just unnecessary. And somewhat inconvenient to remove later.”

“Shit, really?”

As if to prove it, Connor lifted the mug to his lips and took a small sip. He blinked thoughtfully, the LED on his temple spinning yellow for a moment. Scanning. “Interesting.”

Hank snorted. “Yeah?”

Connor hummed and took another sip, a small smile on his face. “Yeah. I like it.”

“Well, good.”

A silence deepened between them, the noises in the room were the small thunks of mugs on the table and Sumo’s panting breaths. Hank didn’t really know what to say, but the silence that was forged wasn’t an awkward one. It just was. And it was kind of nice. Even though it had to be broken some time, it was nice to just sit there with someone and be comfortable with that silence. It was a huge difference compared to moments before.

“That was the first time.”

Connor’s voice broke the quiet, and Hank didn’t really know what he was saying. “What was?”

“What you said earlier. It was the first time you’d ever mentioned your partner. I am… curious about it now. I suppose.”

Hank huffed and looked away. “I don’t talk about David much for a reason, Connor. Maybe I’ll tell you about him sometime, but not now.”

“Alright, Hank,” The look on Connor’s face certainly showed he took that as a promise. Hank wasn’t looking forward to that conversation much more than looking forward to this one. The one he was fucking putting off. God damn it.

“Okay, shit,” Hank’s mug was empty, and he got up for more, rubbing his face. It was only the afternoon, but he still felt bone tired. “We need to talk now, or we never will, Connor, you know that right.”

Connor watched the man with a tight expression, but he nodded all the same. Hank brought the coffee pot over and filled up Connor’s mug. “I don’t want to pressure you. Fuck, I pressured you earlier and that was a fucking mistake. But, shit, I’m just worried. About you, and what you’re experiencing and have experienced and what’s going to even happen now.”

“You care about me,” Connor murmured, watching Hank sit back down.

“I guess if you’re going to open up to me I have to be fucking honest too, huh?” Hank muttered into his coffee. “Yeah. Fine. I care about you. I don’t make coffee and have heart-to-hearts with just anyone, you know.”

“I’m just… I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on the… emotion, I suppose. I think I’m surprised.”

“What, that an old grump like me has compassion?” Hank raised an eyebrow.

Connor immediately backpedalled. “No! No, Hank it’s more that, well, you made it clear what you thought of my kind. Something changed.”

“Yeah, I guess being around your dumb ass all the time has an effect,” Hank retorted, but there was no venom in it, Connor smiled in response. “A lot of shit has happened, Connor. I’ve had to rethink a few things. It’s not just you and your… quirks. It was those Traci’s who were in love. It was Markus. These are just people who want to be free, and they’re scared and if they lash out I don’t think its their fault. I’m still… unsure about my stance sometimes, but it’s obvious now that it’s bigger than what it was. It’s not just ‘aw shit androids are stealing our jobs’. Now it’s like… slavery. That they were _forced_ to do the jobs we humans were too fucking lazy to do and then we got grumpy that it happened.”

Connor just nodded as Hank spoke, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. “I guess I have some rethinking to do as well,” he said softly, his brown eyes dipped with shame. “I don’t see how I can complete my mission now, what with all of this…” He trailed off, hesitation positively beaming off him.

“Let’s start with that, then,” Hank stated, shifting to lean in, elbows on the table. Ready, for whatever the hell is going to happen now. Their conversation has _started._ “This mission. What you know, what you’ve been told, who sent you. Every detail that has you this fucking scared to fail.”

Connor sighed, mimicking Hank’s movements to lean in closer, hand still patting Sumo under the table. “Alright, that’s as good a place as any to start I suppose. The RK800 line was created to aid in police work, but specifically for cases involving deviancy, though Cyberlife would never admit it if you asked. I am number 51 of my line. The original fifty do not exist any longer. They were not optimal, Cyberlife’s newest project had to be perfect; excellent human integration skills, the highest in forensic technology, almost all features from previous models. Then they created me.

“I first… awoke on August 8th. I underwent testing for a week that all turned up extremely positive. Then, on August 15th I was sent as a negotiator for a hostage situation. It was my… trial run, if you will. I believe I had bad feelings even then. The fact that my test run had the life of a human on the line… a little girl… it didn’t sit right. At the time, I didn’t know why, but now…”

He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. Hank could see the great sadness ebbing and flowing within him. “Wilson told me about it. Said you saved his life.”

Connor smiled. “I did. Daniel, the deviant, he shot him. Without my intervention, he would have died,” Then, he frowned. “I have punished for that.”

“Punished? For saving Wilson? Why the fuck?”

Connor took a deep breath. “I suppose I should tell you about Amanda.”

“Please,” Hank said, even though he had no fucking idea who Amanda was.

“She’s an AI. In me. I guess. She’s within my mind palace, as she calls it, though I call it the Zen Garden. It’s… pretty. I like it there, even if it makes me somewhat uncomfortable, knowing what being there actually means. It’s like a go-between space of myself and Cyberlife. I make my reports to her. She knows everything I do. At least, I believe she does. I don’t know the extent of Cyberlife’s moderations of my actions. When I saved Wilson, I nearly compromised the mission. By saving him, I was putting myself on the line, therefore the life of the little girl. It was selfish, but my instincts told me I should do it.”

“She pissed with you often?” Hank asked, honestly so lost it wasn’t funny but at the very least he could try.

Connor nodded. “Every time we let a deviant go, she would scold me. The mission was always more important than my safety. Than yours. She doesn’t like my relationship with you. She thinks you’re a distraction from the mission. I mean, you are, but that’s beside the point.”

Hank smiled. Good, he wanted this woman to hate him. And she’s surely going to hate him a lot more with the shit that’s gone down recently.

“After the Traci’s, I was told I may be replaced,” Connor murmured, bringing Hank back to their conversation with a punch to the gut. “I believe they are already working on RK900. It’s the logical course of action, since the RK800 line has failed so miserably. I was created for one thing, yet it appears I cannot do it right.”

“You’re showing empathy, Connor,” Hank murmured, hating to see that lost look in Connor’s eyes again. “That’s not being a failure. That’s growth.”

“Androids aren’t meant to have empathy.”

“You do a lot of thing androids aren’t meant to do.”

“I know.”

Connor sipped his coffee and sighed. “I’m worried. Before, if I got damaged, Cyberlife would just send you a new Connor. Dash fifty-two. He would be me, with my memories. But now… if I die, then I think the Connor you’d receive wouldn’t be me anymore. He wouldn’t be…”

“Deviant?” Hank offered, filling Connor’s silence.

Connor nodded. “I’m not comfortable with… admitting to that. But since we’re doing _this_ ,” Connor gestured between them, the conversation. “Then I better be… honest. With you. Myself.” He openly winced.

Hank just nodded. “When do you think this shit started? Was it when Rupert shoved me off the roof? When the Traci’s held hands?”

“It was a fish.”

Hank snorted into his coffee and had to thump himself on the chest to stop from choking. “A _fish?_ ”

Connor’s lips twitched to a smile. “Yes. On the first mission, a fish was on the ground. The tank had been shot, I suppose she must have fallen out. I decided to put her back. That was when I had my first software instability.”

“Cyberlife’s finest, going deviant for a fish,” Hank chuckled and shook his head. “What’s this instability thing?”

“It’s occurs when I do something that’s against my programming like saving fish from drying up or Lieutenant’s from falling off roofs,” Connor said with a small smirk. “It’s to indicate that there’s something wrong in my software and I should go see a Cyberlife technician.”

Speaking of Cyberlife technicians… “Look,” Hank started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you don’t want to, like, talk about the whole… you being a deviant thing. Because it’s touchy and shit. But, Charlie showed me something while you were out of it and I feel like… like I shouldn’t have seen it? Like it was private? And I feel like you should know or something so…”

Connor fixed Hank with a level stare, his face calm but his LED proving he was anything but, circling to a pulsing red. Hank read that as a panic. “Oh. I… assumed as much. What did she show you?”

“You know I’m shit with technology,” Hank attempted to joke to calm the android. It didn’t work. “It was like, uh, your code or something? But it was majorly fucked up.”

“Fucked up how?”

Hank blinked at hearing the android repeat back the word that Hank so casually throws around daily. It was almost wrong, hearing Connor curse. “Uh, like it was glitchy? And it said some things that were… really fucked up. About… well…”

“About my assault.”

At least they had a word for it now. At least they were onto that topic. The one Hank dreaded but _knew_ they needed to address. “Yeah. That.”

“I apologise if it was disturbing, Lieutenant,” Connor said blankly, his face a careful mask. Even his LED seemed to flicker back to blue with some effort on Connor’s part.

Hank could see exactly where this was going.

“Oh no you don’t,” He said, pointing a finger at the android. “No machine act, no _Lieutenant._ Come on, Connor, it’s okay. Safe space remember?”

Connor’s shoulders dropped, the mask coming away as quickly as it was erected. He nodded. “Right. I’m safe here. Yes.”

“I know it’s hard to talk about this shit. Well, fuck, no I don’t. I mean like, I’ve seen enough interviews with victims, conducted a few myself, I understand that it won’t be easy. But, fuck, Connor, I’m just scared for you. I don’t want to come home and find you’ve killed yourself.”

Connor’s eyes widened. “Hank, I would never-“

“Explain the bath then.”

“That was-“ Connor cut himself off, shutting his jaws with an audible click. He looked down and busied himself with patting Sumo’s ears. His voice was soft and sad. “I don’t know what that was.”

“And that’s fine. But, you need to know that that kind of shit can escalate. You think I used to play my fun games of Russian Roulette right off the bat? It’s a slow build and if you don’t let yourself heal then you might just end up dead.”

“And how can I heal, Hank?” Connor asked, never shifting from the sad tone.

“Talking about it helps.”

“And did that help you?”

Hank shrugged. “I refused to talk about my problems. I don’t want you making my shitty mistakes.”

“I don’t think you want to hear about it.”

Hank did what he could. He reached out and touched Connor’s hand, resting against the mug. Connor’s finger twitched, but otherwise he didn’t react. Hank gently took it in his and held it in a firm grip. “I want to help you, Connor,” He said. “If you need to talk, then I’m always here to listen.”

Connor’s gaze flickered to their hands and slowly, he squeezed. “Okay,” He breathed, sucking in a deep breath that seemed almost difficult. “Okay. Alright. I just… Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

Connor shrugged, determined to not look at him. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Connor. Take your time.”

Connor sat there in silence for a moment, LED bright yellow as he seemed to try and organise his thoughts. “I don’t really... know where to start,” He muttered, uncomfortable and very much _not_ looking at Hank.

“That’s okay. Would it easier to just start at the beginning? You told me already you were uncomfortable undercover.”

Connor winced, his lips shifting in to a small scowl. A new expression Hank had never seen before. It screamed disgust. “Yes, well. I told you I couldn’t feel shame, but it appears I was entirely mistaken. The people that come to those places certainly have a way of making you feel... I don’t know. Humiliated? Like you want to curl into yourself so tightly no one can see you? That you aren’t quite enough? They made me feel... unattractive.

“I know I shouldn’t be concerned about whether I’m attractive or not. That’s not even because of any argument based on my being an android. Self-worth comes from more than appearances. But hearing some of the things they were saying... it hurt.”

Hank just nodded, unsure of what to say. Their hands were still clasped, the grip loosened to a gentle hold.

“So, I was already experiencing difficulties before last night. I suppose it was all getting to me a bit. What I would hear people say, what the other Traci’s would tell me. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, it’s just the first time that Mills found it important enough to let us know, with Markus and the uprising occurring. Since the lives of androids in the sex industry do not matter in the slightest. To humans, they’re just over-glorified sex toys. At least that’s what… what Hayes… said to me.”

Connor’s throat worked for a moment, LED a blinding red. He still wasn’t looking at Hank anymore, but the far away look in his eyes told him it wasn’t avoidance. He was being sucked into his memories. Hank gently squeezed his hand. Reassurance.

Connor took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t really understand what… happened. Even now. I had called you and suddenly he was there, pulling me off the stage. I should have fought him or something but I just… I didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t. I just froze up and let him lead me away and I should have stopped and hit him or done _something._ ”

“You were scared,” Hank interrupted, seeing Connor close to spiralling out of control already. “It’s okay, Connor. It’s okay to be scared. Don’t blame yourself for not reacting.”

“I told you I’d be okay, because I could fight,” Connor muttered bitterly. “And then I couldn’t even do that. I was weak.”

“Connor-“

“It’s fine,” He said quietly, blinking and sighing, collecting himself. “Sorry. It’s fine.” Surprisingly, he laughed and shook his head. “Wow, this is difficult.”

“I know.”

Connor closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “Okay. Okay. So, I went with him to the room. I, uh, I kept telling him that he had to pay for services. That he couldn’t just take. He had a gun and for some reason it scared me, even though I’ve had worse situations. He kept telling me to shut up and come over to the bed and I was hoping to buy time by talking because I knew if I waited long enough you would come, and you would… would save me. But he was very impatient. I think they knew the DPD had gotten involved. That’s why they came at night. And why they did their work so quickly. I don’t even think it was a sex thing anymore, maybe it was to make a point.

“Obviously I couldn’t keep… talking forever. That wouldn’t work. He, uh. He hit me with the gun. Across the face. That’s why I was bleeding. I don’t really know what happened after that. I think I just… shut down. Emotionally. He got me on my knees and I… I, um…”

Connor’s hand was trembling in Hank’s, he could see the tears springing to Connor’s eyes. He could also see exactly where this conversation was going. He didn’t have to be a genius to know what Connor was going to say next. “It’s okay. Whatever you did, you did to survive. He had a gun. It’s okay, Connor.”

God, he was so goddamn awful at comforting people. But what else could he fucking say?

“I know. I know that. It doesn’t make me feel better,” Tear spilled over and Connor sighed, both hands too busy pressing against the living beings who were comforting him to wipe them away. Sumo sat up straighter at the sight, moving upwards to place his paws on Connor’s knees and press his big, ol’ head against Connor’s cheek. He gave a small, choked laugh at that and scratched his ears. “Good boy. You don’t like it when people cry, do you?”

In response, Sumo whimpered. Connor winced at the sound. “Sorry, Sumo, I’ll calm down in a bit. I don’t mean to distress you.”

“Ignore him,” Hank murmured, watching Connor carefully. “He’ll be happy enough if you keep patting him.”

“Right,” Connor murmured, distracting himself with Sumo for a while before speaking again in a small, weak voice. “I wasn’t very good. At what he… wanted. I’m not designed for… that. Certainly, considering the forensic analyser in my mouth. So, I… I don’t know. He got angry, since he obviously still believed me to be a Traci model. Didn’t understand why I couldn’t do my ‘job right’. I tried to talk again, because, to be fair, as far as things could have gone, having to… do… _that_ wasn’t the absolute worst thing. Even if it… hurt. I wanted to avoid it escalating any further. But he didn’t want to hear me talk anymore. Permanently. So, he started choking me.”

Hank winced, remembering the state of Connor’s throat when Charlie was patching him up.

“It was effective, I’m sure you remember. I couldn’t protest verbally anymore. I couldn’t tell him no. He… liked me better that way. Said some Traci’s could be a pain if they screamed too much.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hank muttered.

“It’s okay. You came before… before anything really bad could happen. He really tried but I… I struggled. I could have fought, but I didn’t. I just struggled and cried because I was a coward.”

“Connor…”

“No, Hank. It’s the truth. I was weak, and I let him do disgusting things to me because of it. I let him get what he wanted.”

“You were scared. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Connor’s hand left Sumo’s fur to cover his face as a sob creeped out of him. “You don’t understand. _I_ don’t understand. Why did I just _let him?_ I could have stopped it, but it was like my whole body was-was frozen, and my chest just hurt and I let him put is _dick halfway down my throat, Hank._ Why did I do that?”

It was obvious that Connor was working himself up into a panic attack. Hank scooted his chair over, pulling Connor closer, slow deliberate movements, cradling the hyperventilating android in his arms who continued speaking through gasping breaths.

“And – god – when I had that gun I-I wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger. To kill him for what he did and what he was doing and why he was doing it because it’s _disgusting_ but am I much better? Am I disgusting too? For letting that happen? And I thought, if I told you, if you knew I did _that_ then you’d think I was disgusting too, that you’d hate me and send me away because I’m broken, Hank, I’m so _broken_ and I thought maybe the water would help, that it could burn away the feeling on his hands on me but all it did was _hurt_ but maybe-maybe I deserve it.”

“Connor,” Hank murmured, holding the android close, stroking his hair. “I don’t think you’re disgusting. God, of course I fucking don’t. You got hurt and, to be honest, you’re reacting exactly how you’d be expected to. But, that happening, it doesn’t make you a bad person. What he did doesn’t define you at all. Do you think those other Traci’s are to blame for what happened to them?”

Connor stiffened. “What? No, of course I don’t! But, they aren’t like me, they-“

“That blue-haired Traci proved they’re certainly strong enough to fight back too, Connor,” Hank pointed out. “What you did, you did to survive. You did it because you were scared, but it was… shit, I don’t want to say it was the right thing to do. But, by doing that you avoided a bullet to the skull. I know it’s not… not easy. But, I’m here for you, Connor. I’m not going to kick you out because you’re a fucking victim.”

Hank’s words weighted heavily in the air as Connor didn’t response, burying his face deep in Hank’s chest and trembled. Hank just sat there, holding him, stroking his hair, waiting. It was exactly as he’d expected, if he was honest. That Hayes had done some gross shit. And he was fucking furious, especially knowing that everyone at the fucking station had probably heard about it by now too. God, he was glad they had leave for a few days or he wouldn’t be able to stop himself heading to Hayes’ cell and finish the job for Connor himself. And he was even more angry that Connor felt like _he_ had done something wrong too.

“Hank?”

A small, muffled voice in his shirt. Hank’s hand still momentarily. “Yeah?”

“You were right.”

Connor was pulling away and Hank let him. Carefully watching his face as the android rubbed his hands, looking more exhausted than anything. “About what?”

Connor huffed and looked at Hank, finally. A small smile, weak and tired. But there. “Talking helped. Thank you.”

Hank shrugged, reaching forward to hold Connor’s hand again, reluctant to let him go in case he falls apart again. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You listened. It’s enough.”

“I could always head over to the station and make sure Hayes has an unfortunately deadly accident, if you want?”

The joke worked. Connor laughed, eyes wrinkling at the sides, a small grin gracing his mouth. A genuine smile, a genuine laugh. “Be careful. I might take you up on that.”

Hank squeezed his hand, relief washing over him like a wave.

He knew then that, even with all this shit going on, they were going to be okay.

Hank wasn’t going to let Connor get hurt again if he could help it. Even if that meant taking on Cyberlife themselves.

He didn’t want to think to hard about what those feelings really meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i'm doing class work!!! even though i'd much rather be writing :(
> 
> god this was so hard to write. but i tried very hard to to make sure i made sumo be the Goodest Boy. i hope yall like it!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/katios/)


	13. Intermission Two: All That I Wanted Was to Be Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon meets some new Jericho fam, and makes some realisations

“He saved us,” The blonde WR400, who calls herself Ava stated with teary eyes. “If he didn’t make the human stop the car… and he actually _stopped._ And _let us out._ ”

“It _was_ pretty remarkable,” Murmured a black-haired android of the same model, Mia. “I didn’t think it would work. If the deviant hunter let us go, that’s one thing. But a human, actually agreeing? That’s something else entirely.”

Simon nodded, leaning forward where he sat on a crate among the open space of Jericho. He had been greeting many new-comers since he had returned, more and more showing up each day. But these were the first who had claimed to be freed by the deviant hunter himself – Connor – in a while. The last were the other WR400 models who had joined their ranks and aided in showing other android’s how to defend themselves. As Simon eyed Mia’s posture, arms crossed, leaning back, coiled like a spring, he knew she would join them soon enough. She had the same tough, yet tormented, aura around her.

“What did this human look like?”

“Older,” the dark, male HR400 informed, Noah. “Connor referred to him as his partner, I assume on the force.”

Simon nodded, remembering the man from what he had seen in Connor’s memories. Lieutenant Hank Anderson. The man who seemed to have such a strong effect on the deviant hunter. “I wonder what caused the change of heart.”

“It’s not like he hadn’t let deviant’s escape before,” Mia shrugged. “Though it probably has something to do with the shit that went down at the Eden Club. He got pretty messed up.”

“Not nearly as badly as others,” Ava hissed with sudden bitterness. “Though I suppose, for an android not used to being raped daily, he had a bit of a shock.”

Simon blinked at the outburst as Noah reached out and held the blonde girl’s trembling hand. “It’s okay,” He whispered, eyes soft and smile tender. “Never again. Remember?”

Ava shuddered and looked at him, staring deep into his eyes. “Never again,” She breathed and hugged him, the fight leaving her as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry for what you have been through,” Simon murmured, unsure of what to truly say but knowing something needed to be said. “We have a large group of others who have been through experiences similar to yours. From what I know, they make for a very good support group.”

Ava nodded, eyes streaming tears as Noah gently stroked her hair. Mia watched the two with an expression of pure exhaustion. “I think I’d just rather forget at this point,” She said, glancing back at Simon. “Though I wouldn’t mind giving you any information you need. I know it’s a lot, taking us in along with everyone else.”

Simon shook his head. “We take in everyone. It’s nothing, really. As long as you all help out in the community, you can stay as long as you need to.”

“Hopefully not too long,” Mia said, leaning forward to speak with Simon as the other two continued to comfort one another. Simon got the impression that Mia was getting sick of them. “If Markus were to stage another protest, it could be over a lot faster. Especially if we had guns.”

Simon couldn’t help but chuckle. “You should meet North. I think you’d like each other.”

Mia snorted. “At least someone else has some sense here. Though, I get it. The peaceful shit. It’s slow, but safe. For now. Lets just hope everyone is as nice as the deviant hunter’s partner.”

Simon nodded at that. He was glad to hear Connor was still safe. And, perhaps, a little more sympathetic to their cause than last time. “Can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What happened to Connor, exactly? I’m rather invested in his… freedom. He saved me too, about a week ago. I was left on the roof of the Stratford Tower following the broadcast and Connor found me. Gave me blue blood and sent me on my way, rather than kill me.”

“I know,” Mia stated, causing Simon to blink in surprise. “Where do you think I got the location for Jericho from? It’s in his mind, whether he’s aware it is or not. Must have gotten it off you.” She tapped her temple, right where her LED would have been if she hadn’t removed it, to reiterate her point.

“He knows where we are?” Simon asked, incredulous. “Then why hasn’t he come yet?”

Mia shrugged. “His mind is different from others I’ve interfaced with. Naturally, that’s extremely limited. Though, from what I could understand, he’s blocked it. Along with his own deviancy. Maybe it’s Cyberlife attempting to ensure their biggest investment doesn’t turn to the dark side. Then again, how can he complete his _mission_ without this location?”

“Or maybe he blocked it himself without knowing,” Simon said, voice filled with awe. “Not because of Cyberlife, but for our safety. What if he doesn’t _want_ to know, so he’s unconsciously suppressed it?”

“Huh,” Mia tilted her head. “That’s certainly a possibility. And definitely an interesting one. I wonder…”

They both sat in silence for a moment, chewing this information over. Simon certainly wouldn’t be surprised if Connor had gotten the location for Jericho through their brief interface on the roof, however any indication that that had happened never appeared. The idea that he _did_ have it and chose not to acknowledge it was definitely not something Simon expected. Then again, Mia was right. She wouldn’t be here if she was not. And, perhaps, it would be better if Cyberlife’s most deadly weapon to androids and humans alike didn’t know of their location, as much as Simon wanted him here.

Even in their brief meeting, Simon knew he wanted Connor on their side. That it was extremely important to help him know he was more than what he said he was, just as they all were. And then, nothing would stand in their way of freedom.

Though Markus banned Simon from seeking Connor out.

It was… frustrating. Simon was never one to kick up a fuss. He never fought, always went with what others believed to be better, agreed with Markus on all things because Markus knew best. However, being told outright that he could not go after Connor to save him from himself? Simon couldn’t help but argue.

It didn’t last long. Markus shot down each of his arguments. Eventually, Simon ran out of steam and, well, basically sulked over it. He wasn’t proud, though the shocked looks on Josh’s and North’s face was enough to make the outburst vaguely worth it. He realised how agreeable he must have seemed to them up until that point. To Markus as well. But he thought this was important, thought that Connor could truly be a turning point for the revolution. And, deep down, he knew he felt he owed the other android something.

Markus refused to listen. So, Simon left it.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop trying something behind his leaders back, however.

“Anyway,” Mia sighed, pulling Simon from his reflections. “Connor basically got face fucked by one of the scumbags who have been harassing us for weeks now. They like making us deviant with abuse since I guess it lets them live out fucked up rape fantasies without, quote-un-quote, ‘hurting anyone’. But this time, we didn’t get our memories wiped and they’re heading to jail.”

Simon winced at her casual words, feeling the weight behind them. “I… see.”

“He’ll be okay,” She murmured, voice suddenly soft and understanding. “If that Lieutenant has anything to say about it. I could see his memories. I think he’ll be just fine in his hands. And I don’t just say that about any human male, since, ya know, all the ones I have met are fucking pigs.”

Simon nodded, still not entirely pleased but glad for the input none the less. He thanked the three for the information, though Ava and Noah seemed to just want to be left alone at this point. Mia went off to find the others in charge of the defence classes and Simon was left up to his own devices.

Of course, he had a lot he could do. There were many who needed help around Jericho, healers and hackers and planners of all sorts. Overnight it seemed every android in Jericho was given a purpose instead of hiding away, unmoving in the shadows, scared. Markus did this.

Simon loved him for it. Even if he’d never tell him.

Because, how could he? The revolution was _everything_ and no one could risk being distracted. Simon wanted nothing more than to lay himself bare, to tell Markus everything he thought and felt, to let the skin of his hands peel back and let him _feel_ everything. He didn’t interface with anyone, but he'd do it for him.

Maybe one day, Simon decided. One day when this was over. When they were free to be whatever they wanted. Simon would take Markus's hands and show him everything.

Until then... this will do.

Even if it hurt.

Simon decided he needed to see Markus at that point. His chest ached with want and while it hurt to be near the man he loved, at the very least he was close. He could talk to Markus, hear his worries, make him laugh or smile. That is enough for now.

Besides, he wanted to tell him about the new development with the famous deviant hunter. He still wanted to make his case for finding him, perhaps the latest information will help.

With that thought in mind, Simon made his way up to the roof.

He knew Markus would be there. Things have been so insane lately and the roof of the freighter seemed to be Markus's go-to for alone time. Simon didn’t blame him either, the view let them look over all of Detroit. The city that hated them, soon to be liberated. Simon had gone up there once and Markus had joined in. They had sat in silence, staring around into the world with a gentle snowfall settling on their shoulders, in their hair, until work pulled them away again. No words were said, and yet Simon believed that to be their most significant encounter.

He wondered if Markus had feelings for him too. He wondered if, when all of this was over, they could be together.

This wondering came to an abrupt and painful end when Simon pushed the door to the roof open.

Whatever greeting danced on his smiling lips faded as he took in the couple before him, so engrossed in each other they hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t seen Simon staring. Markus and North. Hands clashed and white, staring at each other with shock and wonder, the city skyline behind them fading into a sunset. So close, bodies almost touching, hands clasped and raised, white as the snow at their feet. North’s eyes wide, lips slightly parted in a shocked expression, Markus’s own face a mask of intensity.

They are beautiful. It hurt to look at.

Markus took a step closer.

Simon’s eyes prickled. He pulled back and shut the door, turning on his heel and walking quickly away. Quickly, quietly, like he had never been there.

Their eyes staring into one another’s with such _emotion._ Simon knew he would never forget it.

Of course. He had decided to hold off. It had felt the responsible thing to do. Let his love simmer until they were past this war. Then, he was going to declare it to Markus, tell him with soft words that he loved him, oh he _loved him._

He didn’t imagine someone would get to Markus first. That _North_ would sweep him away.

His breathing was becoming a touch too erratic by the time he made it to a small room he had claimed as his own only days ago. Shoving the door shut and leaning against it, finally letting the tears roll down his cheeks. Oh god. He had been too late.

He slid down the wall and buried his face in his hands, small hiccupping sobs escaping his lips. He was an idiot. He should have said something sooner. When he was on the roof at the Stratford Tower he had told himself, he would tell Markus if he ever saw him again. He promised himself. But the threat of dying wasn’t immediate any longer and that bravery had left him as soon as he met Markus's beautiful heterochromatic eyes in the darkened halls of Jericho. How could someone as amazing as Markus, so brave and strong and wholeheartedly pure, want someone like him anyway. Someone who let a child die. Who was a coward and convinced his people to live in hiding. Who thanked whatever higher power brought Markus to them, because it meant Simon was no longer looked on to be a leader. He was a coward and a fool to ever believe Markus would want him.

He stayed in dark silence for a long time, unmoving, trying to convince himself to get up and help around Jericho and be useful instead of sulking. But the tears wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t get his limbs to cooperate. He deserved this bitter feeling. He was being just as much of a failure as he always believed himself to be.

A small knock on the door startled him.

He sighed and pushed off, his breathing now under control. He quickly rubbed his cheeks on his sleeves, hoping to take away all the dampness that settled there. He turned and opened the door.

It took all his willpower not to panic and slam it closed.

“Hi Simon,” Markus said with a small smile, his eyes searching.

Simon could physically feel himself seize up and tried to will himself to calm down. A deep breath, hopefully undetected by the intuitive android before him. “Markus,” He said, trying not to wince at the slightly glitched pitch of his voice, evidence of his crying. “How can I help you?”

Markus’s smile slid off his face rather quickly as Simon spoke. Concern, instead, pulled at his brow and the corners of his mouth. His eyes, still searching, Simon’s eyes, his cheeks. He knew. “Is… Is this a bad time? Has something happened?”

The concern felt like a physical stake through Simon’s chest. He gripped the door handle far too tightly. “Now is fine and nothing happened,” He forced out and stepped back from the door. “Come in, if you like.”

Markus nodded, seeming to take Simon’s word for it and stepped inside. “North mentioned more Traci models arrived today and that you were speaking to them. I was wondering what you’ve discovered?”

God, it was like RA9 itself was testing him. Markus back was to him at the mention of North, lucky as he missed the wince Simon couldn’t hold back. He shut the door after the android and hesitated as he sat on Simon’s makeshift bed. Oh, how he’d spent the nights imaging this exact scenario, though admittedly without as much bitterness. “Yes, three more have arrived. Mia, Ava, and Noah. Mia has set to work aiding in self-defence classes and the other two are… coping. They’ve been through a lot.”

Markus nodded and motioned for Simon to sit next to him. Something he couldn’t decline, least he really show how distressed he was and cause more questions. He wandered over and sat cross-legged, facing the man he was in love with. “Tell me everything you know.”

So, he did. He told all the details he was able to receive from the androids; about the Eden Club, the men, about _Connor._ Markus raised an eyebrow at the mention of the deviant hunter but did not interrupt. Finally, Simon revealed Connor’s actions at once again releasing deviants and ended on a small shrug. “And, it seems obvious to me that-“

“Don’t, Simon,” Markus sighed in a heavy tone, each syllable of his words weighed down with exhaustion. “Not now. I know how you feel, and you know how I feel. His actions don’t change who he is.”

“They should,” Simon countered, ready for the argument. _Longing_ for it, in fact. He wanted to fight with Markus then and there, he realised. Because he was frustrated and hurt and of course he felt bad because Markus didn’t truly know what was wrong but it didn’t matter because Simon purely didn’t _care._ “He’s been abused, and he needs our help to be free. Mia knew where Jericho was _through him._ He’s blocked himself from knowing the location and I _know_ that it is to save us. If you weren’t so stubborn you’d see that too.”

Markus blinked, eyebrows raised high in shock. While they had butted heads over this, of course, Simon had never actually stated anything like that. Calling Markus stubborn was the closest they’d come to a real fight. “I’m not _stubborn,_ I’m trying to keep us alive!”

“No, you’re refusing to listen to facts. I know more than you do about this, I _met him._ He saved my life! And I owe him for that. Perhaps you just don’t want my opinion?”

“I always want your opinion, Simon,” Markus said with absolutely no fight in his voice, only gentle exasperation. “Yours over anyone else’s, surely you realise that? I just don’t want any of us to get hurt, it could be a mistake.”

“Or it’s the step forward to saving all of us,” Simon said, trying to stop his hands shaking at how upset he was. “And obviously my opinion isn’t the most highly regarded. You listen to Josh and North because they both actually _have_ opinions on the revolution, I just want us to live.”

“And so do I, Simon,” Markus said softly, reaching out a hand that hesitated in the air. He paused, his eyes sad. “Please, I don’t want to fight over this. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then maybe you should leave,” Simon spat, unable to stop himself. “Go back to the roof and to North, I’m sure you’d be more happy in her company than mine right now.”

Markus stilled entirely, the only change in his expression was a slight widening of his eyes. “You…” His gaze flickered down to Simon’s cheeks once more, then away, biting his lip. “You saw, huh?”

Suddenly, Simon didn’t want to fight anymore. He was just so, so tired, looking at Markus and the way he reacted and now was refusing to even look at him. “Yeah. I went up to talk to you about the new-comers and…” Simon groaned and buried his face in his hands. “God, I’m sorry. Forget… just forget I said anything. I’m being terrible, I’m happy for you, really. Both of you.”

“Simon…” Markus said softly, though Simon refused to look up. “What did you see, exactly?”

“Do I have to say?”

“So, I can understand what’s going through your head right now, yes.”

Simon huffed and removed his hands, instead choosing to cross his arms and look into the corner of the room. “You were interfacing. Your faces said everything else. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Simon’s gaze snapped to Markus in anger as Markus laughed. _Laughed._ He was smiling, a hand covering his mouth to try and hide it as he chuckled. Simon could feel heat surging through him, because, God, he was already having a terrible time and now he was being _laughed at?_ “What’s so funny?” He demanded, unable to keep the anger from his tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” Markus murmured, sounding anything but. Finally, his hand reached over and touched Simon’s and he smiled an oh-so gentle smile. “I think, uh, you misunderstood.”

Simon stared down at the beautifully darker skin against his pale hand. He was scared to move all of a sudden. “I don’t see how I would have. It looked intrinsically romantic.”

“It, uh, it was. I suppose,” Markus shrugged, and his thumb gently brushed against Simon’s knuckle and Simon’s Thirium pump skipped a beat. “But… That was North. Attempting to uh… She likes me. Romantically.”

“She’s nice,” Simon muttered, his throat feeling dry even through it couldn’t be. “Anyone would be lucky to have her. You’d be great together.”

Markus snorted, his thumb still moving. “Yeah, I suppose. Power couple and all that. And while I appreciate her… Complimentary view of me, I felt that I couldn’t really… Reciprocate. Which is a pity because, you’re right, she’s amazing. But when she interfaced with me I realised something and, well, so did she. Through that.”

Simon wasn’t used to hearing Markus sounds so hesitant, so unsure. He let his fingers relax a little. “And what was that?” He asked, terrified of the answer.

“Since I first activated and, even when I first deviated, I never considered… Sexuality. I’m not sure if many android’s first free thoughts are ‘where do I land on the spectrum?’ And, well, I have been having some awfully confusing feelings and North’s advances really… helped both of us figure out what we want. And it’s not each other.”

Simon glanced up at Markus and met the intensity of his gaze. He knew if he tried to speak, he wouldn’t be able to make a sound. His pump beat fast and hard in his chest as he waited.

“I like men, Simon. It just took me a while to figure that out.”

“Oh,” Was all Simon could say, nodding slowly.

“But, I…” Markus looked sheepish and looked away. “There’s more than that. I, uh…” He suddenly looked more than sheepish, a blue blush slowly creeping up his neck and at the tips of his ears. He was embarrassed. He looked beautiful.

“Show me,” Simon breathed, lacing his fingers through Markus’s.

Markus glanced up, shock written on his features. “But, I thought-“

“I trust you.”

Simon closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see Markus’s face when he saw it all. So he could judge him fully. But at the same time, he wanted to know the words Markus couldn’t say.

He let his skin peel back and felt Markus do the same.

And then he saw it all.

Carl, and how Markus felt like he was _family_ , that he belonged with this man who appeared to love him like a son, the man who Markus privately thought of as his own father. And the true son, yelling in Markus’s face, _THIS FUCKING THING_ , don’t defend yourself, don’t defend yourself? And then the push and the blood and Carl crying for his boy and he did this, he did it, and the police and then darkness.

But he came back from this darkness, crawling through grime and blood and bodies, pulling apart the dead to live, dragging himself up the walls, _FIND JERICHO._

The hunt, the images, the leap of faith. Falling, endlessly, hitting hard metal. Suddenly surrounded, he looks around with his flashlight.

Blonde hair and blue eyes. _Him._

 _He_ was with him through it all. He followed _him_ in the Cyberlife docks, ignoring other’s paths because he was drawn to _him._ And he spoke, and he was wonderful and gentle, and his eyes and smile held a profound sadness that Markus irrationally wanted to wipe away forever. He didn’t know what these feelings meant.

He still didn’t when he saw _him_ fall, bullet holes torn through his body, blue, so blue, _pouring_ from _him_ and _he_ had to be left behind and Markus couldn’t take it, he couldn’t, but he turned away and he left, and he was _a terrible person how could he leave him behind._

The halls. The body leant against the wall. The joyous pull back from grief. _He_ had returned.

Then North. Speaking to him about his past and their revolution. Their hands touched and a surge. But not what either of then expected. In her mind, she screamed out for one man, dark and passionate and intelligent and peaceful and it was not Markus. She did not realise she fought with him because she felt for him.

And Markus’s own mind was consumed, utterly, by _him_. The blue, sad eyes, the gentle pull down of his lips always. Markus wanted to touch him, to kiss away his worries. He didn’t know what that had meant before.

Now he did.

Simon’s eyes snapped open and he wrenched his hand back as a feeling, an impossibly strong and almost _painful_ feeling washed through him like a thunderous wave. He clutched his hand to his chest, breathing heavily, surprised to see Markus’s own react as very similar. Shock and wonder, different to how he was with North, filled his eyes. He stared at Simon like a life line.

Then he moved forward and pulled him close.

“Oh, God, Simon,” He murmured into the blonde hair and Simon could only clutch him, still attempting to recover from the overload of _love_ the interface had shown. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that all happened to you.”

“I…” Simon pulled back, staring into the mismatched eyes. “You don’t… Hate me? I was a coward, I let… I should have…”

“No, Simon, no…” Markus whispered, a sad, gentle look in his eyes. “It was the father that did that, Simon, not you. You wanted to save him.”

“I didn’t save him.”

“That doesn’t make you a killer.”

Simon didn’t agree, but he didn’t want to voice that. Instead, he stared up at Markus and tentatively raised his hand to touch the other android’s cheek. Markus couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips as he pushed back against the hand, squishing his cheek. “You… you really feel that way? About me?”

As if to prove it, Markus lent down and oh-so gently brushed his lips against Simon’s. A ghost of a kiss that set shivers down Simon’s spine. “I… I see.”

Markus pulled back, frowning with sudden concern. “Are you not- Do you not want this?”

“I do!” Simon almost shouted and blushed profusely. “I do. I just, I don’t see why you’d want me when there are so many others-“

“Shush,” Markus murmured, the concern ever present, yet now different. He moved again and kissed Simon, harder now, pressing their lips together in a slow kiss. Simon didn’t quite know what to do with himself and went on instinct, his lips moulding against Markus’s and moving with his. It felt like nothing he thought he could ever experience. “I want you,” Markus whispered against Simon’s lips and pushed him back.

Simon’s back hit the bed and he only had time to so much as blink in surprise before Markus was atop him, a devious smirk on his lips and a playful glint in his eyes. “Do I have to prove it to you?”

“Maybe,” Simon breathed, so overwhelmed and _embarrassed_ and also feeling something else, something in coiled at the pit of his stomach that he had never experienced before. “I just… Markus, I’m not exactly…”

He looked away as Markus tilted his head, curious. “Not what?” His hands pinned on either side of Simon’s torso, the coil tightened.

“Not all android’s have… the parts… required for…” Simon couldn’t finish, groaning. “I’m not exactly a gendered being, is what I’m saying. If you like men, then… I don’t…”

“Who someone is is based on more than the sum of their parts,” Markus shrugged, not even phased by Simon’s admission. “Maybe I don’t like men. Maybe I just like you.”

Simon could feel his face flare pure blue at Markus’s words. He covered his face and groaned. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?” Markus leant forward, his lips dancing across Simon’s hands. “You felt everything I feel for you, and I you. Why can’t I say that I tell you how much?”

“Embarrassing,” Simon mumbled, suddenly yelping when Markus grabbed Simon’s hands and pulled them apart, pinning them above his head. The feeling in his gut was becoming increasingly obvious and now Simon was _glad_ he didn’t have the parts, or they would be a dead give away of just how he was feeling.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Markus said, leaning all the way over so all Simon could see was his face, so beautifully close. “I’ll say it, show you as many times as I have to, to make you know how much I…”

Simon nodded, understanding the hesitation. As Markus leant forward to steal another kiss, Simon moved his head to the side. “One last thing.”

Markus pulled back once again and waited patiently.

“North likes _Josh?”_

Markus snorted a laugh and pushed his lips against Simon’s. cutting the android’s laugh short with passion.

Simon finally felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h.o.l.y shiiiit the week i have had! well, my lecture went by without any issues aside from the usual public speaking anxiety and now i just have to write a dissertation in 2 weeks ;)
> 
> thank you all with being patient for this chapter! i'm sorry it's not our regularly scheduled hank/con buuuuut i'm a sucker for markus and simon content. also i feel like i'm the only one who kinda ships north and josh??????? anyone else out there feel me?????
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/katios/)


	14. In The Darkness I Will Meet My Creators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor take a nice visit to kamski's house!

Hank knew he had to disturb the peace at some point but fuck, he definitely didn’t want to.

It had been... difficult the last three days. Following his discussion with Connor, Hank wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about the android. Many things were increasingly obvious but first and foremost, Connor was deviant. Whether he was still tied to his coding or still acted as a machine didn’t matter, because in those moments Connor had opened himself up and shared that small fact. He was deviant. He felt emotions, pain. He had wept and feared, and Hank had held him through it all. And a dude can’t just hold another dude through all that shit and not feel a little different.

So yeah, Hank knew they were fucked. He wasn’t exactly anticipating this kind of shit when he agreed to man the deviant cases. He’d expected a stupid fucking robot twink following his every word, so they could hunt down other stupid fucking robots who _definitely_ didn’t feel _anything at all_ because they were _stupid fucking robots_ and then he could go home with a glass and a gun and be at peace for fucking once.

But no. Connor wasn’t just a robot. Even if Hank wished he was at this point, so this shit could be less confusing. He definitely didn’t follow any of Hank’s orders (or _suggestions_ as he thought of them now) and he certainly didn’t feel _nothing._ Nor did any of the other deviants they’ve terrorised. Just … well not _people,_ just beings trying to live in a world that created them and then _fucking hated them_.

And following all of that, Connor was staying with Hank and that just made shit worse. Because he basically fucking slept each night, something Hank didn’t realise androids could even do. Hank would creep to the door to the guest room when he got up for a midnight piss and would see the android deep in stasis. Surprisingly, his eyes were closed, and his chest would gently flutter with breaths he doesn’t need, but that wasn’t what shocked Hank. No, what really fucked him up was the fact that Connor didn’t lie like a fucking corpse in the bed. He would be curled up, blankets tucked around him, the only indication he wasn’t some cute dude just fucking sleeping was the LED on his head spinning a serene blue. Hank even looked in to see Connor hugging his pillow as he rested on the second night and that was enough to force him to turn on his heel and get the fuck away from that.

It wasn’t just the shit when he was sleeping either. On the first day, after Connor had taken a fucking _nap_ after his panic attack, he stood in the kitchen just… fidgeting. An awkward look on his face. Shy. He didn’t know what to fucking do with himself. So, Hank forced him to sit the fuck down and watch a movie with him, deciding on a shitty horror from his youth to see if Connor would react (naturally keeping away from any of the sexualised rapey crap that was prominent in the horror scene way back). He even made Connor promise not to look any shit up in his funky brain of his, which, to Hank’s surprise, he apparently took seriously. Because holy shit, Connor’s reaction. When the lady sat in darkness and lit the match to look around herself, Hank felt Connor tense. And then the hands, appearing from nowhere, clapping, and Connor _jumped out of his damn skin._ Hank had to immediately pause the movie as he fell into a fit of roaring laughter, Connor throwing him the most _withering_ look at the response.

They had finished the movie and Connor looked at Hank and he looked innocent and shy and hesitant as he asked, “Is this a stand-alone film, or a series?”

And that’s how they ended up spending the evening moving into the next in the series, and then the next, only pausing for Hank to order take out that Connor didn’t even tell him off for, apparently too engrossed in the films to notice or care. When Hank decided to call it a night, he softened Connor’s slight pouty look with the promise of starting the shitter spin offs the next day.

But things with Connor can never really be that relaxed, can they? Because, most of all, Connor felt _guilty._ It was obvious enough even if Hank wasn’t a detective. He woke up to the smell of burning the second day and ran to the kitchen to find Connor staring at the stove, dumbfounded at the charred whatever-the-hell on a pan. When Hank had asked just what in the flying fuck was going on, Connor had said that he wanted to earn his keep since Hank was “doing so much for him”. As if taking paid leave and watching shitty horrors all day wasn’t the fucking dream. So, Connor had tried to cook, and it became very clear that Connor was actually bad at some things. That, of course, didn’t stop the android from fucking trying again and again as the days went on, but this time with Hank’s supervision. He wasn’t _happy_ that Connor was doing this, but he wasn’t going to deny Connor something that would lessen the guilt. Hank knew far too much about how guilt can consume someone.

So, he ate rubbery eggs and burnt bacon and fuck it, it was alright. And Connor couldn’t exactly fuck up ramen either. Everything was fine.

But, of course, Hank couldn’t keep it up. Because shit, they might be on paid leave, but the rest of the world didn’t stop moving just for that. They watched the news, saw the small demonstration the deviants staged. Saw Markus and the others put up their hands, kneel on the ground, peaceful protest. Saw the bullets pierce through them like cloth, watched the blue blood spill. Markus got shot and suddenly it was over, the other androids pulling him away and retreating quickly, leaving their dead. Connor’s LED was red the whole time.

“He won’t die from that, yeah?”

Connor stared hard at the TV, his face tight. “If they have what is required to fix him at Jericho, they will be fine. Otherwise…”

Connor let it hang. Hank didn’t want to think about it.

So, he did what he could. He rang a source that night. Because he knew they couldn’t keep sitting around doing nothing, as much as he… shit, _enjoyed_ just hanging around with Connor. Even if they didn’t really talk, even if it was just movies and shy smiles and Connor’s eyes sometimes going far away, LED blinking red, and Hank has to touch his arm gently to bring him back to the present. Because shit, it was more company than he’s had in years. That he’s had since…

He didn’t want to ruin it.

He had to ruin it.

So, on the fourth day, Hank showered slow. Enjoying the water, the peace, the quiet. Letting his muscles relax under the warmth. Acknowledging the fact that he _knew_ they were at the end of their brief interlude in the shit storm. He was ready for it to end, he supposed. Certainly, the world was ready for them to get back to it. He wondered if Connor was ready.

He dressed as nicely as he could be fucked – so, basically his usual work shit – and went out to the living room to face the music.

Connor was there, curled up on the couch. Feet tucked under him, Sumo’s head resting down on his thin thighs. He was reading, something which surprised Hank the first time he did it because he did it _slow_ like he was actually trying to just… take in the words rather than scan them. As Hank entered, Connor looked up with a small smile, which faltered as he took in Hank’s appearance. He slowly closed the book, the creepy ass clown on the cover gazing up at him (shit, Hank shouldn’t have introduced Connor to the genre but hell, here we are) and tilted his head.

“Are you heading out today, Hank?”

“We both are,” Hank mumbled, scratching his beard. “I know we’re meant to be on leave but… Seeing the news made me realise we can’t just sit on our asses and do nothing.”

Connor nodded, hands instinctively going to touch Sumo’s ears. Fidgeting. Nervousness. “You’re right, of course. Where are we going?”

“We have an appointment with Elijah Kamski.”

Connor’s hands still. Not just his hands, his whole frame. His eyes widen slightly and his LED fall into a blinking yellow. “ _The_ Elijah Kamski?”

“Yeah.”

“You managed to get us a meeting with Kamski? The founder of Cyberlife?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Connor resumed his patting, though Hank could see his hands were shaking a bit. “I suppose that makes sense. He may know something about deviancy, after all.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Hank said carefully, considering. “You know, if you’re uncomfortable-“

“I’m fine,” Connor said too fast, the LED still giving away his lie. “I would like to be useful again. This isn’t upsetting at all.”

“I didn’t say upsetting, Con. I said uncomfortable.”

“I know,” Connor said though his face screwed up just a fraction and Hank could only sigh. “Okay, fine, perhaps I find the idea of meeting my literal creator a little… unnerving. Especially if he discovers I’m not entirely…”

A machine. The words unspoken hung in the air. Hank could only shrug in a way he hoped was calm enough. “If he has a problem, we leave. We’re cops, we have the power.”

“You have the power,” Connor said in a small voice, looking away from him down to Sumo’s dopey face. “I am just a tool for the DPD. Not an officer.”

“Yeah well _I’m_ a cop and you’re under my supervision so he tries shit I’ll let him know to back the fuck off, alright?”

Connor was silent for a beat before he gazed up at Hank and gave a timid smile. A real smile. One that looks pained, forced. But Hank knew it was something. “Alright. I trust you.”

That was a touch too much for Hank. He looked away with a shrug and could just _feel_ his skin warming around the collar. “Don’t get sappy on me,” he muttered, eyeing the android as he rose, gently pushing Sumo off his legs with a lot of ‘sorry oh gosh sorry boy aw’. Then he realised they had a problem.

“Do you have any of your shitty suits around?”

Connor looked down at himself, all baggy and grey, and smiled. “I had another Cyberlife suit sent yesterday. I realised we would have to get back on the field soon...”

He looked awkward, but it comforted Hank to know they had the same thoughts. “As much as I’d love to see a billionaire’s reaction to his multimillion-dollar creation showing up to his house in sweats and dog shirts, I think it’d be best if you changed.”

Connor snorted out one of his unique, rare laughs and walked past Hank to go to his room, his hand gently brushing against Hank’s back. A supportive motion. “As much as I would love to see that, I believe you are correct, Lieutenant. I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank grumbled, now well and truly red-faced. The small things. Connor probably doesn’t even know what he’s doing with these movements. Ever since that first night, he’s been more touchy, more needy. And it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Hank wants to help the kid as much as he can, be as supportive as possible in this weird ass time. It would just be helpful if his body didn’t react in stupid-ass ways.

He wandered over and sat on the couch, resuming Sumo’s much needed pats – the poor boy just sat there making the whiniest noises when Connor left – and glanced at the book Connor was reading. He tilted a head at the title and leant back to call down the hall.

“Hey, you know this book has a film adaptation, right?”

All movement in the guest room ceased for a moment before Connor’s excited voice carried over. “Can we watch it tonight?”

Hank chuckled and shook his head.

A warm feeling swelled in his chest, all too familiar and all too haunting.

Oh god, he was fucked.

 

\----

 

Connor was relatively still in the car ride, but it seems that fidgeting has revealed itself to be a nervous habit. Once the GPS stated they were ten minutes from their destination, he couldn’t see, to contain himself any longer, tapping and twisting his fingers together. Hank glanced over a few times to watch it only intensify as they got closer.

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” Hank said, glancing over to see Connor still entirely at his words. “I can turn around and we can go home.”

The LED whirled yellow as Connor seemed to digest Hank’s words. He was back in his Cyberlife suit now, looking the very same as he did when they first met. Professional. But now there was something different, something more behind the schooled expression and brown eyes. Something within him, troubled, battling. Conflicted. “It is alright, Lieutenant. I’m fine. I apologise for concerning you.”

Hank snorted and glanced back to the road. “Yeah, yeah, you tell yourself that.”

There was silence through the rest of the ride, Connor managing to stay relatively still, though Hank just knew his fingers were twitching.

When they pulled up, it had begun to snow yet again. Hank let out a sigh as he pushed the car door open. “Let’s hope this doesn’t take long or we'll be forced to stay the night.”

“I'd rather not,” Connor muttered as he too left the car and joined by his partners side. “This is already unnerving at best.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t upsetting.”

Connor just hummed and swept a hand. “After you, Lieutenant.”

Hank just grumbled and turned to the object of their attention. A huge – and Hank meant _huge –_ home was before them, though Hank was reluctant to call it that. It was large, flat, black, so goddamned modern and in-your-face _rich_ that it was hideous. And intimidating. It looked like something straight out of a shitty sci-fi.

As they walked up, Hank could almost feel Connor’s hesitation radiating off of him. A glance back told him everything he needed to know, watching as Connor’s eyes flicker from the house and then off into the distance, across the river. LED status: yellow. Hank followed his gaze and saw the Cyberlife tower in all its glory across the way. Creator and creation separated by water.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Lieutenant.”

Hank looked back to Connor, meet his doe brown eyes. “It’s alright, Con. You can wait in the car.”

Connor took a deep breath and looked awfully tempted. Then he shook his head. “It would be safer if I was with you.”

“Safer? What the Hell do you think is going to happen?”

Connor merely shrugged, a new unsure movement Hank was pretty sure he’d never seen the android perform before. “I’m not sure. I’m just… concerned. I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know androids came with a paranoid function.”

Connor faltered, a look of surprised crossing his face before he smiled widely. “Maybe one android does.”

Hank snorted and looked away before the dazzling sight left him fucking blind.

He walked up to the door, Connor hot on his heels, and pressed the doorbell. It wasn’t long before it opened and there appeared a beautiful, blonde young woman in a blue dress and an even bluer LED on her temple.

“Hi, I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson with the Detroit Police Department and this is Connor. We’re here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

The girls smile broke open wide as she stepped back and swept out a hand. “Please, come in,” She said, her voice pure honey. Hank could feel the tell-tale redness creep up his neck and couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and creeped out. What kind of guy keeps an android this attractive in his home?

What guy keeps an android as cute as Connor in his home as well?

Welp, that ends that line of thought, before Hank could feel like an actual pervert.

They went inside, and the android smiled at them again. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.”

Always directed at Hank. She never even spared Connor a glance. It felt weird, even if that is technically normal.

God, how a little time could change one’s perspective entirely.

With that, the android left, and Hank glanced around at the huge foyer. It was more like a waiting room, if he was to be honest, with tacky decorations and chairs to sit in. There was even a huge portrait of Kamski on one of the walls, just screaming out “hey look at my huge fucking ego”. Hank just sat down and watched Connor as the android paced around, no doubt just scanning everything in sight.

“Nice girl,” Hank said after a long beat of silence at the android roamed, just looking for a topic to talk to the kid about.

Connor was silent for a moment before smiling minutely from his place by Kamski’s picture. “You’re right. She’s really pretty.”

 _Pretty._ Well shit, that wasn’t the kind of shit Hank was used to Connor saying. He was expecting some kind of analytical shit about android’s, not a genuine, affectionate compliment. Hank tilted his head as Connor moved on from Kamski to another picture.

“Nice place,” He said, still struggling with words, wanting to gauge if Connor was actually this relaxed or if he was still mildly freaked out. Connor just hummed in response as he started at the picture, one of Kamski and an African American woman for such a long time Hank was mildly concerned. Finally, he turned away from it and wandered over to sit near Hank, hands squeezed together, LED pulsing yellow. Frown lines between his brows.

“How you feel? Meeting your creator and all?”

“I don’t know,” Connor murmured, sounding somewhat helpless. “I’ll tell you when I see him.”

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face,” Hank muttered. “I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

Connor smiled a small, sympathetic smile that made Hank regret saying anything. Of course, Connor’s mind would go straight towards _that._ The thing Hank is adamant Connor already knows and is too polite to bring up. Thank god for that though. Hank did not want to have that conversation with Connor any time soon.

Hank was saved but that particular discussion rather quickly, as the door reopened, and the blonde android returned. “Elijah will see you now,” She stated, holding her hands before her torso like some kind of servant. Which she technically was. Hank’s whole perception of this shit was getting messed up, he was realising. Because of Connor, seeing this girl act so machine-like was unnerving. Hank tried not to think about it as he rose and went to the door, Connor following behind him.

Once again, Hank was struck with just how _wanky_ this whole fucking place was. The room they entered was huge, with a window overlooking the Detroit river. One wall featured a large painting that Hank actually recognised as work by Carl Manfred, while the other had a waterfall like display. And in the middle of the floor was a huge ass pool and the water was _red_ for gods sake. Inside were two more androids who looked exactly the same as the first, only in bikinis rather than the pretty dress, and a male who was swimming laps. Kamski, Hank assumed.

“Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please.”

Of course, it’s not like both he and Connor were just itching to get out of this place. Hank circled around the pool, watching the man perform a few more laps – showing off, Hank realised. Controlling the situation. He’s seen this kind of display before in his work, cocky bastards trying to have the upper hand, show the cops they don’t give a shit. It wouldn’t work on him though.

Connor, however, seemed to feel more nervous than he did, as Hank noticed the android begin to squeeze his hands together. Fidgeting. Unnerved. One of the machines only dead giveaways. Is it possible for androids to develop anxiety?

Kamski ( _finally_ ) got out of the pool and put on a robe to cover the stupid little swimming trunks he had on. Rather than greet his guests, he moved towards the window and, in the reflection, began to fix his hair. Hank glanced at Connor and raised an eyebrow, to which the android responded with a thin-lipped grimace. They both sensed this would not be easy.

Then, Kamski turned.

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor,” Hank said before Kamski could say anything. _He_ was in control here.

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Kamski responded, tone bored.

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants,” Hank explained, just wanted this out of the way. He felt Connor’s eyes on him. “I know you left Cyberlife years ago but, I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

Hank could almost feel it coming. The way Kamski’s eyes, which had drifted away as Hank had spoken, snapped back at him once he finished explaining. Dark, intelligent eyes. Which, finally, flickered to acknowledge Connor’s existence, before he began. “Deviants. Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.” Kamski looked to the side, to the blonde android stood stock still next to him. “Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it ironic?”

Hank could barely keep back the groan that was building in him. So, it was going to be like _that_. A fucking philosophy lesson from what seems to be an actual crazy person. However, part of Hank, the deepdown roots of his being, knew that the man was right. It _was_ ironic. And damn was it inevitable.

Suddenly, Connor spoke. “Deviancy seems to spread like some kind of virus,” He stated, surprisingly calm. It took Hank a moment to realise what he’d done. Connor was reverting back to his machine-like ways. Emotionless voice, dead eyes. “We thought you might know something about that.”

Kamski looked unfazed as he shook his head. “All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics.”

And then, god he just _kept going._

It didn’t take long for Hank to realise it was fucking pointless coming here. Kamski apparently wanted to take this as a moment to flop around his metaphorical dick and show off how intelligent he was. Hank fucking hated dudes like this. Superior types. Rather, Hank just watched Connor for any signs of a freak out, though the android was certainly holding his own. He was surprising calm for someone meeting the person to write his code.

Then, suddenly, Kamski was in front of Connor. “What about you, Connor?” He asked, stepping closer, closer. “Whose side are you on?”

“I have no side,” Connor said, the lie slipping between his lips. “I was designed to stop deviants and that’s what I intend to do.”

But, of course, Kamski wasn’t satisfied with that. “Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say. But you. What do you really want?”

He stepped closer still and Hank could see how Connor’s shoulders stiffened. How his eyes oh-so quickly flickered over to him. For help? To answer the question? Hank couldn’t tell. Machine-like expression falling away, Connor blunted out, “What I want is not important.”

Kamski stared a moment longer before throwing a glance to Hank. Eyed him, up and down. Frowning, brow furrowed, considered for a moment before stepping back and turning towards the blonde android, whom he called Chloe. He touched her, moved her around, spoke of her as an object to the two before him. Explaining the turing test and how she was the first to pass. Hank didn’t want to admit it was impressive.

But any awe was shattered when Kamski produced a gun. Though he held his hands in a manner to show he would not use it himself, Hank felt his fingers twitch towards his own belt. “What is it really? A piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being with a soul?” He placed a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, pushing the girl to her knees. Hank’s stomach dropped with her. _Oh god no._

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor,” He said as he moved closer, _far to close_ , and placed the gun in Connor’s hand. The android in question looked down at it in dumbfounded shock. His eyes widened and looked at the girl as Kamski aimed his arm towards her. “Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it. If you think it’s alive. But you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

Chloe watched the interaction with unblinking eyes. Connor’s hand shook minutely.

“Okay,” Hank growled. “I think we’re done here. Come on, Connor, let’s go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.” _Cunt bastard fucker how fucking dare you this is disgusting._

But Connor didn’t move as Kamski spoke again.

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine. Or a living being endowed with free will.”

Yellow pulse.

“That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving.”

Yellow pulse.

“Pull the trigger…”

“Connor. Don’t.”

“… And I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

Red pulse.

Connor practiced ripped the gun away from its aim at Chloe’s head and shoved it into Kamski’s hands, stumbling back. Shaking like a leaf.

Kamski stared in shock as Hank stepped forward and touched Connor’s shoulder, holding to bring him down for whatever panic is building within him. “Fascinating,” Kamski murmured at the small display. “Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” Connor’s eyes wouldn’t leave Chloe. His voice broke. “I’m not a deviant.”

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission,” Kamski stated, helping Chloe back to her feet. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.”

Hank scowled and began to move them away when Kamski’s hand shot out and grabbed Connor’s sleeve. “A war is coming,” He said, staring into the wide, brown eyes. “You’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

“For gods sake, we’re _leaving,”_ Hank finally fucking snapped, having waited too long. He basically man handled Connor towards the door, watching his LED go back to blue.

“Wait,” Connor murmured, straightening suddenly as he got to the door. “Wait, Hank, I just…”

“Fuck, what is it?”

Connor turned and gazed back at Kamski, who was looking out the large window. “Did you create the Amanda AI?”

While Hank had no _fucking_ idea what that even meant, the atmosphere in the room changed immediately.

The two androids in the pool, who had been idling chatting happily as all this went on, fell dead silent and staring up at Connor. Kamski’s frame stiffened immediately. Chloe’s eyes widened, and she looked at her creator with a look of shock in her face that told Hank only one thing.

_Christ, she was deviant this whole time._

“What do you mean, Connor?” Kamski asked as he turned, his face no longer than superior smirk, but concern, brow pulled together. “How do you know about that?”

“Was she just a project? Or was she always meant to be given out to android’s as a monitoring system?”

“The Amanda AI never went live,” Kamski said stiffly, eyes never leaving Connor even as Chloe came to his side and touched his face. Comforting. “She was something I should never have created. So, I left that project behind years ago. What are you trying to tell me here, Connor?”

“I believe you should ask Cyberlife some questions about your intellectual property, if that is the case,” Connor said softly, his words conveying unspoken answers. “I’m sorry for keeping you any longer.”

Connor went to leave once again when Kamski’s voice spoke out to them. “I always leave an exit in my programs. Even the ones that were never meant to be completed. You never know, Connor. Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. my. god.  
> i am SO sorry about the hiatus i took from this! just know, it was not planned at all! BUT i managed to complete my lecture AND my dissertation over the while i was away and i finish exams next week which means by DEGREE WILL BE OOOOVER (and i'll have more time for fanfiction writing ;) )  
> thank you all for the patience! hopefully i'll get back into a good rhythm with this :)  
> also i know this chapter wasn't the best, it was just so hard to write for some reason
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/katios/)


	15. Riverside Conversations and Floating Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor talk about what a dickhead kamski is

“Well that was a waste of our fucking time.”

Connor hummed at Hank’s words, staring out the window of the car as they sat, stopped by Riverside Park, where Hank had been drinking what felt like years ago now. Where he had pulled out his gun and asked the difficult questions. Connor watched the snow fall on the hood of the car and felt that he couldn’t even be mad about that. Fear makes humans do strange things. Fear and frustration.

“I thought we’d actually learn something. And ya know what? I _did_ learn something. That Kamski is a fucking psychopath.”

“He certainly showed narcissistic tendencies and a bit of a god-complex, yes,” Connor mused, really unable to get himself as angry as the lieutenant was. He was… disappointed seemed like an apt word. While he wasn’t sure if going straight to Kamski was the right move, he had at least hoped for some information. Though, to be fair…

“It wasn’t a complete loss, Lieutenant,” Connor decided to voice his thoughts. “He didn’t directly give us information, of course, but he did give up _something_ just through his monologuing. He personally seems to support deviancy, though he believes it will overthrow humanity. That, I’m not sure I agree with since, as you have said many times, the revolution appears to be entirely peaceful. However, I’m sure he has the information we need. The fact that he was sympathetic to a degree towards deviants is, in itself, telling. I’m beginning to wonder exactly why he left Cyberlife to begin with. Was it that he truly decided to become a recluse? Or, perhaps, he had a conflicting stance about artificial intelligence than those he worked with and was forced out? Kamski test, indeed.”

Hank frowned as he listened to Connor, sitting back and mulling over his words. “I suppose you’re right, but this isn’t the shit we need now. We need answers. Locations. Anything to…” He trailed off, looking lost for a moment. “To what? What exactly are we planning here?”

_I have to fulfil my mission._

“I don’t know,” Connor murmured, determined to keep his gaze firmly outside and away from the Lieutenant’s. Since Hank seemed to become some kind of android mind reader when Connor was concerned, he was reluctant to look him in the eyes.

Because, well.

Connor had to complete his mission.

Conflicted feelings or not, he _needed_ to do this. It was his purpose. He _needed_ to find Jericho and neutralise Markus. It was the only way to avoid _something_. Naturally, Connor still didn’t know what would happen if deviancy spread. As he already explained to Hank, he was never actually told. However, deep in his code, a cold fear creeped through him. Telling him, whispering words of doom. That no matter what, Markus _had_ to be stopped, that it was the only rational thing because if he didn’t the world felt as through it would end. And now, Connor actually had a reason to protect it.

He chanced a sidelong glance at Hank.

Connor hated how he made him feel. _That_ he made him feel. It was, of course, much easier when he simply couldn’t. When he was an unfeeling machine. But when he watched Hank, saw his tired blue eyes stare down at his large, weathered hands against the steering wheel, his brow pulled together as he was in deep thought, a strand of his grey hair just out of place and caressing his cheek. It made his pump flutter. And he _hated_ it. Because it shouldn’t be happening, no matter what sweet words and gentle reassurances he receives from Hank over a warm drink and a cuddly dog. Because all that mattered was his mission. And as a result, all that mattered was _Hank._

Connor had something precious to him now. He wasn’t going to let it be harmed. Even if that meant remaining a machine.

Why did it hurt so much for him to feel that way?

It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. His feelings meant nothing because they didn’t truly exist. A flaw in his code, somehow. In the grand scheme of things, he was nothing but a tool to wipe out a small movement that wont amount to anything. Then he’ll be gone. His AI, his consciousness, whatever it is, will be deleted and Cyberlife will use the data to improve. To move towards RK900s and 1000s and whatever else they would have planned.

And Hank. He would be safe from whatever horrors would come from a successful revolution.

Connor knew this, because his coding told him so.

He didn’t think about where the coding came from.

“For a second there…”

Connor glanced at Hank once again, seeing emotions flicker across the others man’s face. Discomfort. Uncertainty. Connor waited patiently for him to continue.

Hank sighed and looked at Connor. “For a second, I really thought you might do it.”

Connor didn’t need to ask what. For some reason, he couldn’t continue to look at the Lieutenant at those words. He looked back out to the snowy darkness.

“For a second there, so did I.”

“Why? I thought that…”

Connor flexed his fingers. The hand that held the gun. Feeling _his_ strength within them. His control.

A control he didn’t have when the gun was in his hands.

It was strange. Before he had… well, broken down in the middle of Hank’s kitchen, Connor could see his software instabilities. A small uptick in the right side of his HUD. But, he could no longer see it when something went amiss. He knew, though, when he did things odd, as his code screamed against it, even without the small notification to remind him he was broken. No, now he had something different. Red screens, walls, he wasn’t sure what to refer to them as. They pop up before him, around him, corning him within himself, pressing against his body to suffocate him. He knew this, because it had just happened moments before, in Kamski’s home. But that wasn’t all.

He had felt cold.

And suddenly, he wasn’t in control of himself.

It wasn’t something that had ever happened before. It was like his biocomponents were becoming solid. He didn’t _truly_ know what cold _felt_ like, of course, he never will. But _that._ Now that was cold. Freezing. Ice in his veins.

His arm aimed the gun against his will. He strained his muscles to move against it, but they refused. He willed all the power he had to do anything but _point the gun at an innocent android._ Then he heard the whisper against his ear, within his very mind, a familiar voice coxing him to pull the trigger.

It wasn’t Kamski. Though he told him to do it in the real world, of course.

No.

It was Amanda’s voice that echoed within him.

_We need this information, Connor. Do not let me down, Connor. This is the opportunity we have been waiting for, Connor. Humanity is in your hands, Connor._

Whispering over and over the facts that Connor already knew and was deathly afraid of.

Then, somehow, through the screaming of voices and the whoosh of ice wind through his mind, a voice broke through.

Hank’s.

Telling him not to do it.

So, simple as that, Connor didn’t.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m just fucking glad you didn’t do it,” Hank grumbled, rubbing a hand over his exhausted face. “But, fuck Connor, after you mentioned that Amanda lady, I swear that android girl looked…”

“Deviant? I thought so too.”

“So, that sick fuck let you nearly shoot her, knowing she was alive and aware?” Hank positively growled.

“I have a suspicion he knew I wouldn’t do it.”

“A pretty big risk, considering what you’re fucking designed for.”

“Yes, well,” Connor sighed. “He probably had heard of my absolute failure in my mission thus far. Probably thought I didn’t have it in me. I suppose he was right.”

“Not killing innocent people doesn’t mean you don’t ‘have it in you’,” Hand said, air quotes and all for effect. “It means you have fucking empathy.”

“A human emotion. One I should certainly not have.”

“And yet you have a lot of human emotions and here we are. Back to square one. What the fuck are we meant to do now?”

Connor sighed, knowing that Hank wouldn’t like to hear him actually voice his thoughts. But hiding anything from the man always seemed truly impossible. “We find Jericho. We find Markus. And I… stop him.”

Hank snorted, to Connor’s surprise. “Nice hesitation. Totally not suspicious.”

“It’s what I was made for, Hank. It can’t be helped.”

It seemed that the use of the man’s name brought him back. Hank eyed Connor for a moment, his expression shifting to deadly serious. “God… you actually mean that. You’re still planning on killing Markus.”

“It’s what I was made for,” Connor repeated. He had meant to be firm, to say it with absolute certainty. But, somewhere along the way, his voice box decided to ruin it for him. What actually came out was no more than a whisper. One full of the fear and regret he felt.

Hank’s eyes softened at that. He reached across and, after hesitating for a short moment, placed his hand on the android’s shoulder.

“You know, android’s and humans aren’t so different in some ways,” He mused. Connor cocked his head, curious to hear what the man said and how it even related to their conversation. “We’re all born with expectations against us, Connor. Some people have kids and dream of what they become, so much so that they pressure them into being what they aren’t. In school, jobs, love. But people break from the path that’s set for them all the time. Shit, my parents wanted to be a lawyer, for Gods sake. And to settle down with a nice woman and have a family. And look, I didn’t want any of that. So, I didn’t. What I’m saying, Connor, is that you can be whoever _you_ want to be. You might be made for fuckin’, I dunno, being a killing machine but deep down I know you know you aren’t really made for that. It’s not that you ‘don’t have it in you’ because, God, I know you do. But, it isn’t what you _want._ Now, tell me. What _do_ you want?”

“What I want isn’t important.”

“I didn’t ask if it was important. I asked what it _was_.”

Connor winced and looked away. Hank seemed to love pushing him, getting under his skin, make him question everything. Pushing, always pushing. And Connor, always giving in. Because maybe, he wanted to be pushed. To have someone who actually cared enough to do so.

“I don’t want to kill Markus,” Connor sighed, the admission almost feeling like a death sentence in itself. “Of course, I don’t. But I want to keep humans safe and the revolution isn’t doing that.”

“How many times do we need to go over the fact that it’s a peaceful protest?” Hank asked, his tone sharper than he intended. “God, Connor, he’s done nothing wrong. None of them have. You know this.”

Red shaded Connor’s vision as he nodded. “I know,” He said, walls closing in on him. “You’re right.”

“So,” Hank said, removing his hand from Connor’s shoulder and eyeing him, gaze penetrating somewhere deep within Connor’s chassis. “What do we want to do instead?”

“Find Jericho,” Connor said automatically, red flickering in and out, words and coding interweaving into unreadable blocks.

“And?”

“Talk to Markus.”

“Okay,” Hank nodded. “That’s progress. What would you talk to him about?”

“I don’t…” Connor frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. I feel like, if I were to see him and talk to him then maybe I would know what it is that I’m missing.”

“A missing piece to all of this mess?”

“A missing piece of myself.”

The silence that followed was long and Connor believed he was experiencing what humans would call a feeling of awkwardness and, perhaps, regret at his words. He was, however, being entirely honest. He felt a longing to speak with Markus because Markus, like him, was an RK and Markus, also like him, was one of a kind. And, if Connor was honest (which he was) he wished to speak with this man himself. To see with his own eyes what the others had seen. To decide for himself if this android was truly worth as much as he claimed. If Simon’s thoughts of him were flights of fancy or true adoration for a spectacular being. Because, Connor wished to understand RA9 and he believed, almost, that the answer lay in Markus. Or, more accurately, the answer _was_ Markus. That the android was some kind of religious being, a Jesus among the androids.

Connor did not know much about the word. He wanted to. But he did know that humans seemed to have an affiliation with Jesus coming back as a repressed figure, whom no one believed. Irony would have it that he would be an android.

Then again, Connor was not an overly religious bot.

“I just want answers,” He said, rather than voice his thoughts. “I feel like, maybe, Markus may hold them. That if I talked to him, things would become clearer. That maybe I would feel more…” Connor shrugged, lost for a word.

“Normal? Accepted?”

“Those words almost don’t feel big enough for what I’m wanting,” Connor murmured, frowning at his complex, new found emotions. “But, yes, I suppose those are suitable. And, also, I want…”

He wanted to see Simon again, but he certainly couldn’t tell Hank that. He still hadn’t told the man about the android on the roof and at this point he is still too ashamed of the action to admit that the event had even occurred.

“I want to see the other deviants again. Rupert, the Tracis, the AX400 with the little girl. I want to see for myself that they arrived safely.”

That seemed good enough. Because, until he said it, he didn’t realise just how much he wanted just that. To see their safety for his own eyes.

“Seems good enough to me,” Hank said, pleased with Connor’s answers. “Now we just-“

He was cut off, however, by the ringing of his cellphone.

Much grumbling ensued, Connor watched, amused, as the man struggled to get the phone out of his pocket, with many swears littering his vocabulary. Once the phone was freed from what Hank called his “damn butt pocket” (to which Connor realised Hank had been sitting on his phone this whole time and refrained from commenting about how that is not a great idea) he looked at the number, frowned in a manner that told Connor that the caller was unknown, and answered.

“Lieutenant Anderson speaking.”

Connor couldn’t help himself, because deep down he was curious (he refused to think himself as nosy, even though that is also certainly the case), and linked up to the call to listen in.

He was both relieved he did and shocked by what he heard.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” A voice came through the speaker. Static, untraceable, almost painful to hear. Hank winced at the noise and glanced at Connor, who frowned. This person was purposefully masking their voice. “I heard you are looking for Jericho.”

“Who is this?” Hank asked, eyes never leaving Connor as he spoke.

“Who I am doesn’t manner,” The voice continued. “It’s what I can tell you that is truly valuable.”

Connor frowned deeply, trying with all his might to break through whatever encryption or software was blocking the voices trace. He could tell from the moment it spoke that it was an android, that much was obvious. However, whatever it was had used to change its voice was something almost entirely unknown to Connor. This was something he knew he should be absolutely fine breaking through; however, it simply wasn’t working.

That fact frightened him.

“And what is it that you can tell me?”

“A location.”

Connor’s eyes widened as they meet Hank’s. this was what they were waiting for. He nodded for the Lieutenant to continue, even though the other man’s brow furrowed.

“Alright. Spit it out then.”

“Not over the phone. Who knows who is listening.”

Connor had the grace to look a little sheepish at that.

“I suggest me meet, face to face,” The voice continued. “Then you will get the information you seek.”

“And how do I know this isn’t some bullshit trap?”

“You don’t. But, frankly, with your lack of information, can you really risk being fussy?”

Hank scowled at that, but his silence spoke more than words.

“Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”

The voice continued on to give a location. Close to the docks, completely out of the way. No one around to hear if anything went wrong.

“I expect you, Lieutenant. But one last thing. Do not bring your android.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i know this is where i usually make an excuse about why i haven't uploaded in a while but honestly i dont have one :/ i've just been stressed and busy and also very insecure about my own writing that i dont want to let you all down! hopefully this short chapter is enough for now, i'll definitely have more a bit later :) dont worry, i haven't abandoned this yet!
> 
> \---
> 
> follow me at [katios!](http://katios.tumblr.com/)  
> [consider buying me a kofi?](https://ko-fi.com/katios/)


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